


Princess

by Amelita



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Anal Plug, Angst, Bed-Wetting, Bestiality, Bladder Control, Blindfolds, Bondage, Branding, Breathplay, Bugs & Insects, Buried Alive, Cannibalism, Captivity, Champagne Enema, Chastity Device, Claustrophobia, Cock Cages, Come Eating, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Diapers, Dildos, Dirty Panty Fetish, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Electrocution, Enemas, Face-Sitting, Fisting, Fluff, Food Fetish, Food Sex, Foot Fetish, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Feminization, Fucking Machines, Golden shower, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Head Shaving, Humiliation, Imprisonment, Infantilism, LSD, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Medical Device, Mental Breakdown, Mental Institutions, Misogyny, Multiple Personalities, Murder, Mutilation, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Object Insertion, Omorashi, Painful Childbirth, Panty Kink, Past Brainwashing, Past Child Abuse, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Psychological Trauma, Psychotropic Drugs, Rape Aftermath, Regret, Rescue, Rimming, Scat, Solitary Confinement, Somnophilia, Sounding, Speculum, Tit Torture, Torture, Unconscious Sex, Urethral Play, Waterboarding, Wax Play, Whipping, ecstacy, spousal abuse, tightlacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 71
Words: 194,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3132539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelita/pseuds/Amelita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The average Fairy Tale tells of a beautiful Princess who is locked away in a tower, imprisoned by a terrifying, monstrous dragon. But what if that dragon was, in his heart, just a helpless beast... desperate for her love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Acousticophilia

 

The Sion was the premiere club in all of Shinjuku. A place where all of the wealthy, the elite, the anybody-who-was-anybody came to rub elbows with their peers. It had taken him months to get a membership card and perhaps all of that time waiting had set his expectations a bit too high.

No mistake; it was a very, very nice club. The waiters blended in seamlessly, unobtrusive and yet somehow knowing exactly when the patron wanted them and appearing at just the right moment with a fresh bourbon or an array of Cuban cigars and an uncanny knowledge of which wine went perfectly with which h'orderves. They were dressed immaculately in black tuxedos and white gloves, nice, but not too nice, so as not to overshadow the guests. The club was crowded enough to feel intimate, but not so crowded as to feel claustrophobic. It was as if the bouncers knew exactly how many guests to let in and went not one single person over. The patrons sat around gleaming mahogany tables; old wood, expensive. The leather of the plush chairs and couches arranged around them was supple and soft to the touch. The colors were dark and rich and the scent of sandalwood hovered in the air, muting the hard smell of tobacco and liquor. There was music playing in the background, a crooning soul singer whose voice was rich, but not overpowering, providing a rich background noise that was neither distracting nor subtle.

Everything about club Sion oozed good taste. Lavish and expensive, but not ostentatious. It was class, all the way. And that must be what sat it apart from all the other, common clubs in the area, with their loud bands and bright colors and flashing lights. It was perfection; a perfect place for the toast of Shinjuku society, both the underworld and overworld, to mingle and form their unholy alliances.

And yet, he still felt disappointed.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he had been expecting. Club Sion hadn’t let him down in anyway. It was all as it should have been and yet…. there was just something missing. The element of mystery, surprise, something fantastic and out of the ordinary. That was it. As nice as Sion was, it was still somehow ordinary.

He had been hoping to see the extraordinary. The myth and the legend that everyone spoke in hushed whispers about. He fingered the slim plastic membership card in his suitpocket that he had worked so hard to obtain. He could see the black card with the white scripted words printed on it in his mind’s eye. He sighed and stared at the dark liquid in the heavy glass tumbler. Perhaps it had all been a waste of time.

The bar was full, a constant rotation of members coming to order a drink and then floating away to rub elbows with the others of their species. He had no one to mingle with and so he stayed, tied to the bar like an anchor, sipping his scotch as slowly as possible so as to avoid having to order another. There was no such thing as cheap liquor in Club Sion.

The ice clanked in his glass as he sat it down at the bar and suddenly he noticed that the dull hum of conversation had slowed. Almost coming to a halt entirely. He lifted his head in interest and felt his heartbeat increase.

It was him.

Asami Ryuichi. The owner of the club, as well as most of the clubs in the strip. Most of the businesses, banks, skyscrapers…. he was the undisputed King of the Tokyo underworld and had somehow risen to the top of the legitimate financial industry as well. His name simultaneously inspired fear and awe. His broad shoulders filled out his three piece suit impeccably as he strode confidently through the club. Every so often he stopped to greet one of the patrons. He could feel his breath catch in his chest as the tall, powerfully built man grew closer and closer to him. This was it, this was the something extraordinary he had been waiting for. A chance to watch the predator in his own environment. This was what it had all been for.

It was a wellknown fact that despite owning nearly every club and bar for miles, that Club Sion was the only one that Asami himself actually frequented. The man had been his target for years now. His own private obsession. Seemingly invulnerable, with a dense network that was impenetrable. His men were beyond loyal. His secrets beyond safe. Years of investigation had brought him nothing but frustration and dead-ends. Everyone knew he was the head of the Japanese yakuza, that he ran the drug cartels, the weapons smuggling, the money laundering, that his legitimate empire was built on a pyre of bodies and dark deeds. But knowing and proving were two very, very different things. And no one could prove any of it. Like his father before him, Asami was untouchable.

He had no weaknesses.

But that was what he was here to find. A weakness. Everyone had at least one. Even Asami Ryuichi.

He held his breath as those penetrating golden eyes passed over him. If he recognized him, he showed no sign of it. His security cleared the path to a table in front of the stage, obviously reserved for him. The stage was about waist high above the floor with a long catwalk for the performer to walk out on. With one annoyed glance and wave of Asami’s hand, the unfortunate singer who currently occupied the stage flushed and went scurrying into the darkened wings. The red curtains dropped behind her and the velvet shimmered in the stagelights as they swung closed.

Rumor was that when Asami was in club Sion, only one singer was allowed to perform.

Rumor was that he would not tolerate the sound of any voice but one.

The club fell silent, the sudden quiet was unnerving without the background music, but slowly conversations began to resume and the steady hum of voices filled the air. He watched as Asami lit a cigarette. A Dunhill, the only type of cigarette he smoked… if his intel was correct, but then again that might be a rumor as well. It was so hard to know fact from fiction, the man was as much myth and legend as fact, of that he was sure. Not all of the stories about the powerful man’s brutality could be true. It simply wasn’t possible. He watched him carefully, fixing the corner of his gaze on the mirror behind the bar so that his eyes never once wandered in his direction. Asami’s golden eyes seemed to almost glow in the dark as he exhaled the thick smoke from his lungs. Never had he looked more like his namesake; the Dragon. He sipped the amber liquid from his shotglass slowly, his long fingers outlining the rim of the glass and the security team kept all other patrons away from him with their dark frowns and intimidating demeanors. It was obvious he was not there to socialize. He was obviously waiting for something. Or someone.

And so he waited too, in the corner of the darkened bar, his eyes fixed on the reflection of the room in the mirror. For what he didn’t know, but he knew in his gut, that it was going to be something extraordinary.

Suddenly a voice curled over the hum of the club. A voice that was at the same time soothing and passionate. Intoxicating. It wasn’t so much loud as it was powerful, easily heard above the crowd although it was soon not necessary for everyone went quiet and every eye fixed on the stage. Red, ripe strawberries dipped in rich, hot, melting chocolate topped with a sweet whip cream swirl. Thats what the voice sounded like. Like nothing he had ever heard, it was thick and tangible. It was resonant, deep and sultry with a whispey breathiness that shot straight to his groin.

He was half hard before the curtain was even drawn back.

It was like being in the presence of a ghost.

A chill ran along his spine as he continued to stare at her through the mirror, it didn’t seem possible. Such a creature didn’t exist. Couldn’t. He turned with a jerk on his barstool. Needing to cast his eyes on her directly. Still unsure that the vision before him wasn’t a trick of the mirror.

It was a strange and sad feeling; like vertigo. Like falling into a pit that he knew he would never climb out of. He knew then that every woman he ever saw, from that moment on, he would hold next to her and compare. And they would come up short. Always.

He felt a sudden almost crippling urge, overpowering; a sad and desperate need to claim that which he could never have. He realized he had never before truly understood the power of male desire, over which the power of a woman’s beauty will always reign, like a cruel, omnipotent queen. In that moment, he had never felt more helpless.

She was not tall, but only standing next to something would one have noticed that. Her proportions did not give it away. Her arms and legs were impossibly long, made longer still by a pair of dainty, sparkling high heels with a silver buckles that clasped just above the slenderest ankle he had ever seen. Her dress was like her skin; white satin, pure and clean and creamy with a long slit that exposed one of her legs from delicate hipbone to her perfect tiny toes. She swayed in the light of the stage, ever so slightly in a lithe graceful motion as she continued to sing, her voice rising above the crowd; smooth and vibrant.

An angel, he thought crazily to himself, Asami Ryuichi had captured an angel and trapped her in club Sion. Her hair was golden, vibrant with a lustrous sheen that fell in long ringlets over her delicate shoulders and down her fragile back to just below her tiny waist. He felt certain he could span that waist with his hands. Her face bore only the tiniest hint of cosmetics, for hers was the kind of beauty that had no need of it. Her high cheekbones were blushing and her brows were in a perfect arch shape. Her button nose sloped gently upward and her full lips curved in a perfect cupid’s bow. She had petite features on a small face, petite but perfect; the kind of perfection only found in magazine ads after hours of airbrushing and photoshop. Artifice meets art. Unobtainable. The kind of perfection that takes your breath away and makes you despair at the same time. Until this moment, he had thought the promise of such perfection was always a lie. He could have stared at her all night and still not pinpointed what made her so beautiful. It was every individual feature and the way her perfection came together. In a way, it was as if she were the embodiment of Sion herself. Class and elegance without ostentatiousness. She was sexual without being flirtatious. All class. Perfection.

Her eyes were blue, a clear radiant blue and her sooty lashes were impossibly long. For a moment they swept over the audience, stopping only on the man who sat in the front row. Asami’s golden eyes flashed intently when she met his gaze and it was hers that dropped away, yielding submissively. For a moment she seemed to stumble, inhaling deeply, clutching the microphone with her slender fingers like a lifeline and then refocusing on her song.

Her words fell on his ears like soft candy his mother used to give him as a child. He remembered how the sweet sugar fell on his tongue and dissolved into a pink mist, leaving behind the longing for more. Always more. He needed more.

Needed it.

He grabbed the arm of the bartender suddenly, clutching at his sleeve desperately as he croaked the words out, “Who… is she?”

The man looked at him pityingly as if he knew well, the despair and longing that had welled up inside him.

“The Princess.”

He jerked as if he had been struck. She was a ghost, another myth of the underworld. Asami Ryuichi’s precious jewel that he kept hidden from view, except for on the most special of occasions. Unlike the other yakuza who were proud of their many mistresses and wives, Asami was said to be zealously faithful only to one. It was said that he was insanely jealous of her. Possessive to the extreme. That he had killed men for just looking at her the wrong way.

The bartender leaned down and spoke to him gently, “Look man. The Princess belongs to the Dragon. Don’t touch her, don’t speak to her, don’t even look at her. Its best if you walk away and do your best to forget her.”

He nodded jerkily and the bartender eyed him suspiciously. He handed him another scotch and patted him on the shoulder sympathetically before moving away, “This one’s on the house.”

After a softly muttered thank you, he downed the pungent liquid in one gulp like a man dying of thirst. His back and hair were matted with sweat under his suit that he hadn’t even noticed until that moment. She was it. She was the key. He watched spellbound as she moved her perfect pink lips, caressing the lyrics of her song like a lover, her lovely eyes halflidded as she began to reach her crescendo.

Sudden flashes of her spread out on a bed of white satin entered his mind and he swore he heard her cry his name as she peaked. Rivulets of sweat coursed down his spine, sticking in the hem of his boxers and down the crack of his ass. He shifted uncomfortably. His tie was suddenly too tight and he loosened it with a jerk and then turned to the bar.

He thought for only a moment about what he wanted to tell her and scrawled it hastily on the back of the card. He pressed too hard and the pen tip snapped on the last word, but his message was still legible. It was certain to gain some sort of reaction, good or bad, he didn't know.

He drew a deep breath and then moved away from the bar, suddenly adrift in the dark club surrounded by furls of smoke. It was as if everything but her was in black and white. Even the reddest painted lips looked grey to him now. She was the single pinpoint of color in the dark and he moved slowly, erratically, closer and closer to the stage. He was careful not to draw attention to himself, to stay below the notice of the bouncers. He drew close to the stage and sat in an open chair, slowly sliding it ever closer until he could hear the click of her heels above the music as she walked slowly, swaying with the beat of a love song. It rang dizzily in his ears as he continued to perspire. She was so close, but so far. Untouchable. Like a radiant sunset he could never reach. He could see the security in the wings of the stage. They were soldiers, former mercenaries with short cropped hair, hard mouths and grim expressions. He could see the guns in their holsters and knew they didn’t carry them for show. These were Asami’s men, hired and prepared to kill, to protect his Princess. Those golden eyes that were fixed on her beautiful face would accept no less.

In those eyes, he saw madness, obsession and weakness.

The Dragon had a weakness. She was it. He knew it as surely as he knew he was about to die.

-


	2. Frotteurism

He waited patiently until she began to walk slowly back out onto the catwalk. Her creamy thigh was exposed with every delicate step and he could see the hint of a garter at the top of her thigh. Above it was skin, flesh he knew would feel hot and impossibly soft under his rough fingertips. He was hard in his pants, his cock fully engorged as he hurled himself towards her. He could smell a hint of roses and it reminded him of home.

His hand found his goal, that small triangle of exposed flesh, just inches from the heat of her groin.

His fingers scrabbled to tuck the card into her garter, beneath the creamy satin of her dress even as she screamed, squeezed her legs closed and tried to pull away from his molesting hands. He looked every inch the lecher he was pretending to be. Although he himself wasn’t even sure he was pretending anymore. He truly wanted to touch her. Needed it like he needed his next breath. He relished the feel of her skin under his palm even as the guards descended upon him; throwing him to the ground and dropping a kneecap into his back so hard he felt his ribs snap like a whip cracking.

He groaned and lay limp and stunned as they dragged him out of the club and into a back storeroom. He was tied to a chair and left in the dark. He had thought perhaps they would torture him before killing him and was surprised that they left him alone…. but as minute after minute passed in silence, he slowly realized that that was exactly what they were doing. Each and every breath grew more painful. His diaphragm was trying desperately to expand and inflate his lungs, but his shattered ribcage did not allow for any expansion and the broken bones were pressing against his organs. It felt like he was slowly suffocating, unable to draw a deep breath in due to the blinding pain, even as his lungs burned and his body begged for oxygen.

He gasped for breath, his head spinning, and slowly the room grew ever darker until he noticed a pair of gleaming golden eyes staring down at him. He was even larger up close. His eyes were dark and stern, his face cruel and forbidding, but handsome, even still. Asami carried a jug of something, slowly uncapping it and waving it beneath his nose until the smell of gasoline choked him.

He began to struggle in terror against his bonds, even despite the pain from his broken ribs and those golden eyes smirked at him mockingly. He turned and doused the wood in the fireplace and then flicked his cigarette inside. The fire came to life with a roar, cracking and burning and blazing like flames from a Dragon's mouth. He swore he saw a forked tongue slip from between his lips and he shook his head in confusion, unaware that he was starting to hallucinate from oxygen deprivation. Asami picked up a wrought iron poker with an ivory handle and began stoking the fire. Once it was roaring to his satisfaction, he stopped moving it. But he left the iron in the fire.

He spoke softly, calmly, “I wanted to put bars up, to keep out rats like yourself. But my princess didn’t like it, said it was like performing in a cage. My princess hates cages, no matter how gilded.”

Asami smirked and held up the hot poker, he looked at it contemplatively and then thrust it back in the fire. With the other hand he took a slow drag of his cigarette and looked at him speculatively.

“You see, its not that I don’t understand why you did it. I do. Very, very well. All too well. My princess is so very hard to resist. But that doesn’t change the fact that you touched that which belongs to me. And that, is something that must be dealt with. But I am not a cruel man. Or unreasonable. I’m going to give you a chance to make it right. And a chance to keep your hands.”

He lifted the poker again. The metal was so hot, it was glowing orange in the dark.

Asami smiled and put the iron back in the fire again.

His smile was far more terrifying than the glowing hot poker.

“You have a choice. You are lucky my princess was nearly done with the performance or your punishment would be much more severe. Due to your actions I was denied the pleasure of that beautiful voice for an additional two minutes, more or less. So for every minute of song I missed, you will hold the poker. Should you refuse or let go before the time is up, I will take your hands.”

A blond man with the squarest jaw he had ever seen stepped out of the shadows. In his hand, he held a meat cleaver. It was big, heavy, rusty and covered with dark brownish stains. It had obviously been used many, many times. It was not clean, it was not shiny and it was not sharp. It would take multiples strikes to sever his thick, angular wrists from his forearms and would crush the bones in the process.

There was no doubt in his mind that Asami would do as he said. Those furious golden eyes promised retribution; one way or another. He nodded his head in understanding. There was no use in begging. He knew now, the legends were all true. There were no stories or myths, just cold, hard facts. Asami was everything they said he was.

Asami’s lips arched in a smile that sent trembles through his quaking body. He prayed for the strength to endure as the poker was held in front of him. The hot glow cast shadows across the man’s frighteningly handsome face, making it looking even more terrifying still. He wrapped his fingers around it and held his screams. The smell of burning flesh filled the room and the pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before. The skin of his palms melted quickly before the intense heat and he could feel the muscle and flesh of his hands cooking. The pain was white hot. Everything was white hot. His eyes saw everything in those moments and he opened his mouth to scream but suddenly the pain was gone. He looked down in terror, afraid he had dropped the poker but no, he still clutched it in his hands; his burned, stinking, mutilated claws. He looked down in awed wonder, thanking his God for taking away the pain, not realizing that it was simply that the nerves in his hands had been so badly damaged that they could no longer conduct pain signals and had gone numb. And would always be numb. He would never feel the touch of a woman’s skin again.

He was only vaguely aware of the hot poker being removed from his hands. His skin went with it. Stretching away from his bones like taffy and sticking to the metal like overcooked meat.

Asami chuckled. “Well done. Very few make it through that. Must less without screaming or pissing themselves. I have to admit, I’m impressed, Inspector.”

Asami’s long fingers delved inside his suitcoat to retrieve the membership card he had worked so hard to obtain, “You are free to go, but I’ll be taking this.”

His golden eyes were hard and he was hoisted aloft by two of Asami’s thugs. They held him as he stared at Asami in shock. The man smirked at him as he wheezed and struggled to breathe; the pain of his broken ribcage winning the battle over his scorched flesh. His entire existence was pain, just pure blinding pain. He hardly even registered Asami’s next words.

“Yes Inspector, I recognized you immediately. You have been dogging my steps for the past two years. Think I would not know you? The little mutt thats been sniffing around my business. This is not a place for a hero, Inspector. You think you are the prince from the fairytale, seeing yourself slaying Dragons and saving princesses, don’t you? You are nothing but a bug to be squashed. And next time I see you, I will. Its time for you to run along now. Run along and never come back.”

He nodded in understanding and Asami flicked his hand dismissively. Suddenly he found himself outside in the alley, laying on his back. He stared up into the rain as it began to fall around him. Almost dizzingly. He felt the sensation of vertigo again. Almost as if he were rising to the rain, instead of it falling to the ground. His hands ached and throbbed and the cold water felt like acid in his burns.

He could still feel her skin under his palms. Hot like silk. He closed his eyes at the memory and laid his hair back in the mud, feeling it seep into his scalp. It was worth it. To touch the princess. To give her his message.

Now it was in her hands.

Everything, was in her hands.

-


	3. Andromimetophilia

Akihito walked slowly to the elevator, haltingly, as if he were having a hard time balancing on the four inch stilettos. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to them. He had been walking in heels since he had been a child and they were as comfortable as a well worn pair of sneakers. But the guards didn’t know that and they slowed their steps to match his. They were new. But then again, his guards were always new. Asami rotated them out with an almost alarming frequency. He never offered any explanation and Akihito never asked for one. It was utterly unnecessary. As if Akihito would ever make the same mistake twice. He had learned his lesson well with Kou and Takato.

_Don’t be nice to other men._

Oh yes, Akihito had learned that lesson. It didn’t end well, for the other men.

He had been young then. He hadn’t understood how the man he saw as his brother, father and best friend had really felt about him. He had been just a child then. He hadn’t seen the obsessive glint in his eyes. The mad jealousy that arose in him whenever Akihito so much as looked at another man. He hadn’t understood the many, darker forms of love back then.

But he understood it now.

He kept his steps slow and measured, tightly controlled, ever aware of the small slip of paper tucked in his garter belt. One wrong move would send it flying to the floor and then he might never find out what the mysterious man had risked his life to tell him. Akihito was quite sure that no one realized that the groper had slipped him a note. Akihito himself had not realized until he felt the crinkle of the paper against his thigh. No one knew but him or they surely would have taken it away immediately. His spine tingled at the thought of having a secret from Asami. He had so few.

His shimmering dress swirled around his ankles, exposing his smooth hairless legs, but the guards never looked at them. Not once. They knew better. They kept their gazes carefully averted from his skin, staring at the shining metallic walls of the elevator as they ascended. It went so high, so fast, that Akihito’s ears often popped. It was a reminder of how high above the ground he lived, these rare times when Asami let him come back to earth.

With a curt nod, the guards bowed deeply and Akihito bowed back lightly. The door was closed behind him and locked with a resounding click. Akihito wasn’t truly trapped. He had an emergency code he could use to get out if he really needed to, like if there was a fire or something in the penthouse. God help him if he used it for any other reason.... Not that he would get far anyway. Asami’s men were everywhere. Keeping other men out. Keeping him in.

He leaned his cheek against the cold metal door and rested his fingertips on it lightly. He could hear the guards faintly outside, radioing to the others that waited downstairs.

“The Princess is in the tower. Safe and secure. Yes Sir. We await your arrival.”

Akihito drew a deep breath in. Asami was coming. He had to get ready.

He walked quickly and carefully to his dressing room, his heels clicking against the marble floor. He did not touch the note, he did not even acknowledge it. There were cameras throughout the penthouse apartment. Akihito went straight to his dressing room, it was the large room that adjoined Asami's bedroom. Akihito didn't not have a bedroom of his own. It was not necessary. He hadn't slept alone since he was very, very young. The dressing room was filled with clothing, and racks of shoes. On one end was an ornately carved vanity table with lights around the mirror and two towers on either side. The fronts of the doors were full length mirrors and inside were many small drawers, filled with jewelry displayed on velvet lining. Akihito walked to the dressing table and sat in the pink satin chair. He raised his eyes to the mirror before him. Even he could not deny the beauty he found there.

Perfection. Asami had made it so.

Or perhaps it had always been there and he had merely revealed it….

Regardless, staring back at him was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. And it surprised him just a little, as it did every time he saw it, that it was his own face.

The blond reached up to touch the soft, blushing cheek and saw the pale beauty in the mirror move with him. It almost hypnotized him for a moment, until he remembered that he had to hurry. Asami was coming.

Akihito lifted his heel to rest on the padded footstool in front of him, slipping the dainty strap from the tiny buckle so that he could extract his foot from the confines of the high heel. Looking at the glittering shoe, one would have assumed they were covered in rhinestones... but Akihito knew better. Asami would not tolerate him wearing fake stones. Every single glittering jewel was a genuine diamond. Akihito knew those custom commissioned Stuart Weitzman heels cost more than most people would dream of making in a lifetime. He tried hard not to think about that as he placed them carefully in their padded case, next to about twenty others. He had a pair in every color a person could imagine, made from blood red rubies, glowing green emeralds, deep blue Tanzanite crystals, even light pink sapphires. Those were his favorites, although he would never have admitted it. The little heart shaped gemstones that floated around the ankle straps were just too cute. He had a pair of heels in every color because he had dresses of every color and Asami always liked his pretty little doll to be perfectly accessorized. Akihito’s dressing room was the size of a small apartment and it was filled to the brim; the racks bursting with rainbows of Chanel, Dior, Versace, Dolce and Gabbana, Prada, Valentino and of course, Armani.

Asami was really going to have to quit buying him clothes. There simply wasn’t anywhere else to put them. Akihito didn’t really know WHY the man was always buying him things to wear, he always took them off right away.

He lifted his hands to the back of the halter top and released the knot at the nape of his neck. The silk fell away easily, allowing him to slip it down over his lithe body like water until it pooled on the soft floor beneath him. He was careful not to step on it. It was his mothers. A vintage Chanel, floor length Charmeuse silk with a rosette under the bodice. It gave him the illusion of breasts, which of course, he had not, despite his curves. His chest was smooth and flat, crowned only by his small, tight pink nipples. His chest was smaller than his mother’s had been of course and so was his waist. Significantly so; the painstaking result of years of tight-lacing. The dress had to be altered to fit him, but no one would ever know; the tailoring was exquisite.

The blond ran a dainty, perfectly manicured hand over the flat of his abdomen as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was nearly naked, excepting for his white silk garter belt and panties. He could see the note, still tucked into the elastic of the lacey stockings. He did not pay it any attention. The walls had eyes. He had to make it look like any other night. Akihito unclipped the garters and rolled the the silk stockings down his legs, careful not to snag them with his nails. The note was carefully rolled inside. He would retrieve it later; when it was safe, when he was sure Asami was not watching. He removed the belt from his waist and slipped the silk panties down to his ankles and it exposed his groin to the cool air of the room.

He normally liked looking in the mirror. The beauty he saw there brought him small comfort. But he didn’t like to see himself naked. He didn’t want to look in the mirror now.

He didn’t want to see it.

Or rather ‘not-it’.

The reminder of what he wasn’t.

It wasn’t his. It belonged to Asami. Just like the rest of him.

Akihito sighed and pulled his gaze up to the mirror and there it was. Mocking him from within its golden confines. His tiny cock in a cage.

Asami had placed the chastity device on him when he was fifteen and just entering puberty. He had warned him, that Akihito’s release would only come from him and that he was not allowed to pleasure himself. Akihito hadn’t listened. He had been stubborn back then, going through a rebellious phase. He had foolishly thought his body belonged to him and that he could touch it as he pleased.

How wrong he had been.

Asami had known of course; he always did, when Akihito was disobedient. That had been three years ago. He had not touched his own cock in three long years. That was only for Asami to touch. He knew that now and would not have disobeyed, even without the cock cage. But Asami still made him wear it. He wasn’t cruel. He had bought him progressively larger ones as needed, not interested in making Akihito suffer or causing him injury…. only controlling him.

Always controlling him.

His cock was encased in the slitted golden cage and it locked around the base of his balls, forcing them up and slightly away from his body. They were plump, engorged, pink and hairless. Completely hairless... as was every part of Akihito’s body from the nose down. Expensive laser treatments in his teens ensured that Akihito’s skin would forever remain naked, soft and hairless. The creams he applied daily made it feel like silk. Asami loved his smooth, sensitive skin. Adored it endlessly. He would not allow it to be tormented by razors, wax or burning chemicals and so he had had it taken care of. Permanently.

Akihito sat in the chair and tried to ignore the aching between his legs. Asami had been gone for nearly a week, which meant that Akihito had not had a release since he had left. He normally took care of him everyday and this was the longest he had gone in quite some time. The cockcage made sure he was aware of his tender swollen testicles with every move he made. The golden cage held the penis enclosed inside it and a ring went around the base of the cock, trapping the balls between the ring and the cage like a medieval peasant’s head in the stocks. Then, the ring was locked to the cage with a tiny golden padlock, of which Asami had the only key. He wore it around his neck beneath his custom Armani suits.

It was humiliating. A constant reminder that his body was not his own. That he belonged to Asami. But that wasn’t the worst part about it. The worst thing about the cock cage was that it made him think about his cock all the time, while also rendering it completely obsolete. He couldn’t touch it, couldn’t get at it in any way. The way the gold wrapped loosely around his limp member allowed for easy urination, cleaning and rinsing without Asami's help, but that wasn’t enough to get him off and frankly Akihito was too afraid to try. Asami would know if he did. He always knew. And he would punish him if he disobeyed. Akihito wasn’t sure if there was something worse than a cockcage but he wasn’t eager to find out.

The boy shifted his hips on the seat but it didn’t help. He couldn’t get comfortable. But that was ok. Asami was coming. He would make it better. Akihito lifted his long hair from his back and twined it around one finger. His naturally unruly hair had been treated with the finest oils and conditioners until it glowed like spun silk. It was so silky soft in fact that it was almost impossible to pin up in the elegant styles Asami loved so much. The golden strands just kept slipping free. But he wasn’t allowed to use gel. Asami forbid it, he hated the feel of the tacky, sticky stuff on his fingers. So Akihito just had to use pins to hold it up; lots and lots of pins.

He slipped them into his waist length hair one by one, twisting the golden mass into an elaborate coiffure that held it high above his shoulders. Akihito turned his head side to side, admiring the way it highlighted his delicate features to have his hair pulled back so tightly. But it wasn’t right. Something was missing.

He licked his finger and twirled it around one golden lock, pulling it free to dangle just in front of his ear, brushing ever so gently against his delicate collarbone. There. Asami would like that, but it was still high enough to keep it out of the water. It was so long now. It took forever to dry and he had just washed it.

Akihito moved gracefully into the bathroom and turned on the golden faucet in the marble tub. It began to quickly fill with steaming hot water. All around the ledge of the tub were vases full of pink roses. Akihito sprinkled some of the rose petals and scented oils in the tub as he waited for the water to rise. He wasn’t dirty, not really. He had cleaned himself thoroughly, washed his hair and his skin until it shined and smoothed Asami’s favorite lotion on it before he had been called down to sing for him.

He always liked to see him perform when he came home from business trips. It was like…. foreplay. And so Akihito had been properly prepared for what came after.

But tonight had not gone according to plan.

And worse, Akihito had been touched by another man.

Asami would want him bathed again, every inch of him scrubbed clean and fresh before he erased the memory of the other man’s touch. And he would erase it; the hungry lust in his eyes. His clutching fingers. The scrabbling of the man’s dirty nails on his inner thigh. Soon that would be gone and all that would remain was Asami’s hands on him. He would not stop touching him until that was all Akihito could think about, until it was all he could remember.

Akihito tested the water with a dainty pink toe. It was a little hot, but not uncomfortably so. He sighed and he slipped down into the bubbles, feeling the steam relax the tension from his muscles. it was best if he could relax as much as he could. It would make what was to come… easier.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Long lashes fell across his smooth cheeks. Akihito wore no make-up, he never had. His eyelashes were very long..... long, but pale blond like his hair. They were dyed dark to achieve the same goal as mascara but without the messy, sticky clumping or risk of infection. Asami hated facepaint. He wanted Akihito’s beauty enhanced and complimented but never covered or obscured or falsified. Never fake. Asami couldn’t stand fake…..

“Hello Princess.”

Akihito jerked upright in startle. The water sloshed over the brim of the tub and splashed on the floor a bit. He was covered nearly to his shoulders in suds and bubbles but it didn’t stop his instinct to cover himself and he crossed his arms over his rosy nipples without thinking, shyly turning to look up at him through his incredibly long lashes.

Asami stood there in the shadows behind him; his long legs braced apart, his powerful arms crossed, his eyes glowing with lust and desire. There was an obsessive hunger in them that stirred Akihito’s belly and made it twist.

The way he looked at him made him feel as if he were about to be eaten alive. Consumed. Even after all these years, it still frightened him a little. He had to swallow the dryness that pooled in his mouth before he could speak.

“H-hello Daddy.”

-

 


	4. Flashback

Akihito hummed happily to himself as he played with his Barbie dolls. He brushed their golden hair until it shined and sparkled and put bows and ribbons in it. He didn’t use to be allowed to play with Barbie dolls, his father would yell at him and his brothers would hit him if he did things like that. But Ryuichi didn’t mind. Ryuichi bought him all the pretty dolls he wanted, and their pretty shoes and dresses. But the best part? Akihito’s own dresses were prettier than any of his Barbie dolls.

He smiled and twirled again, rising up on his toes. His dress was pink, his very favorite color and it was flouncy and sparkly. When he spun around, it fanned out and he liked looking in the mirror to see the shimmering fabric move and float like it was flying. Yes, he had the prettiest dress of all. Akihito pretended to be a ballerina. He put his arms out and spun again and again and again until he was dizzy and then the little blond toppled over into a giggling heap of pink petticoats on the soft, sunny, carpeted floor of his playroom.

A deep voice spoke from the doorway, “Are you having fun Akihito?” It sounded as if he were struggling not to laugh.

The giggling heap struggled to sit up, “Oh yes Daddy!”

Akihito knew Ryuichi wasn’t his REAL daddy, of course, but he liked it when he called him that. And Ryuichi was way better than his real daddy anyway. His real daddy had been a real poop-head. That was the dirtiest word Akihito knew. But he never said it anymore. Ryuichi said proper princesses never said dirty words and Akihito wanted to be a real princess more than anything in the whole world.

The taller boy strode over and picked up the little wiggling bundle of pink sparkles. He had dropped his tiara and Ryuichi plunked it down on his golden head, adjusting it just-so on his pretty curls before sitting the little one on his lap. He didn’t seem to mind the glitter that was falling off Akihito’s skirt and onto his expensive suit pants. Akihito snuggled up into the crook of his arm and popped his thumb into his mouth contentedly. The darkhaired teen pulled it out and bit the pad of his finger gently in reprimand before holding the little boy’s tiny hand in his lap. Akihito looked down at the large hand that held his own. Ryuichi was so very big. Big boys like his older brothers had always scared him before and he would hide when he saw them coming. They had pushed him down and made fun of him and hurt him; pinching his arms and making him cry. They said he was different and that he was weird and that he was a sissy, like a girl. They said it like it was a BAD thing. Akihito couldn’t understand that. He liked girls. His mother had been a girl and she was the best, most prettiest mommy in the whole world. She wore sparkling dresses and sang like an angel. She had been a princess and Akihito wanted to be one too. Akihito just couldn’t understand why that was a bad thing. Ryuichi said he didn’t either. He was big, but he wasn’t like Akihito’s big brothers. He was how Akihito wished his brothers would have been. He was a good big. He was a warm, safe and happy big. Akihito loved his big arms and his big lap and his big hugs and kisses.

He pressed one of those big kisses to the top of Akihito’s head and the little one squirmed in his arms happily. Akihito soaked up affection like a sponge, relishing every bit and returning it in spades. Ryuichi buried his face in the younger boy’s curls and breathed deeply, enjoying the clean fresh scent of his golden hair and letting it wash away the ugliness and filth of his day. He murmured in the boy’s pretty ear, “Did you have a good day Princess?”

Lots of practice helped Ryuichi dodge and avoid a bloody nose as Akihito nodded exuberantly, swinging his head back and forth and bouncing in his lap.

“What did you and Nanny do today?”

Akihito sat up straight as he tried to remember. It had been a VERY busy day.

“We made fruit bunnies for breakfast. Mine were pineapple and bananas. And their eyes were blueberries!” He giggled happily at the memory and then pouted, playing with his teeny pink toes. “But we had to eat them.”

Akihito hadn’t wanted to eat his, they were so cute, but Nanny wouldn’t let him play with his dolls until he ate all his bunnies.

Strong fingers stroked his hair soothingly and then walked down his shoulder and hopped across his stomach, “Thats ok baby, thats what fruit bunnies like best, hopping around in the tummies of princesses.”

Akihito giggled at the thought of the bunnies playing in his tummy and felt happy again and continued on with the story of his very important day, “Then we played the alphabet game and watched a movie and I napped. Nanny didn’t though.” Akihito looked up with guilty blue eyes as he tattled on her.

Nanny never napped, even though she made him take naps. Akihito didn’t mind naps though, in fact, he quite liked them. He liked to lay quietly and think to himself. The stories in his head were better than any movie anyway. You could never be bored as long as you could tell yourself a story. The stories in his head had been much sadder before he met Ryuichi but now they were always happy and full of princesses and pink. Suddenly Akihito remembered something very, very important and gasped. He couldn’t think how he could possibly have forgotten. He had been pestering Nanny all afternoon about it. He had made a drawing and he wanted to show it to Ryuichi. He wiggled out of the teenager’s lap and scampered across the room, loving how his pretty dress fluttered behind him as he ran. He grabbed his drawing and ran back and held it up proudly, just inches from the teen’s handsome face.

If Ryuichi had noticed the pile of glitter than had just been dumped on his crotch, he made no mention of it, only smiling indulgently over the top of the picture at Akihito. He studied the painting with his hands steepled, like it was a very, very important document. Akihito appreciated his seriousness. He had worked very, very hard on it.

“Why don’t you tell me about your painting Akihito?” Ryuichi clasped his fingers together and leaned forward interestedly.

The little boy smiled happily at his Daddy’s rapt attention. It was a rather complicated drawing, his best ever actually, so he didn’t mind explaining it.

“Well, its a story, Daddy. About a princess and a dragon. She’s in the tower”

Akihito pointed to the lovely princess he had drawn standing at the top of a tall tower. It was in fact a blob of pink paint and glitter in the corner of the page at the top of two grey, somewhat straight lines and it looked a bit like a flower if one squinted very VERY hard, but to Akihito it looked just like a princess on top of a tower.

“And at the bottom is the ferocious dragon!”

The little boy pointed to a swirly black blob that took up the rest of the page and looked rather like a hairball with fangs that was puking up a red carrot. Akihito was very proud of the fangs and the fire. He had thought of that himself.

Ryuichi nodded in understanding, “I see it clearly now. So why is the princess in the tower?”

“Because if she comes down, the dragon will eat her up!”

Ryuichi frowned at the picture, “Maybe the dragon is protecting her. Maybe he keeps her in the tower to make sure nothing else can eat her.”

Akihito shook his head vehemently, “No Daddy. The dragon will eat her!”

Golden eyes smirked at him, “And why is that?”

Blue eyes rolled and a tiny foot stamped underneath his dress making the skirt flounce out. It was perfectly obvious why dragons liked to eat princesses. “Becaaause! Princesses taste the best! Thats why!”

“Mmmhh is that so….”

Akihito nodded, his blue eyes wide and honest. Of course it was so. Thats why Dragons kept them in castles.

Ryuichi picked up his little hand and looked at it contemplatively before he licked his lips and leaned forward hungrily, “Perhaps I should have a taste then?”

He playfully nipped at Akihito’s chubby fingers and the little boy screamed in surprise, pulling his hand back in alarm.

“Every real princess has a dragon, doesn’t she?” He asked, his eyes gleaming and Akihito suddenly remembered their game. He liked playing chase. He would run and Ryuichi would chase him and then when he caught him he would give him lots and lots of kisses and tickles.

He squealed in excitement and anticipation and went running across the playroom. He hid behind the big Barbie mansion Ryuichi had made just for him. He crouched down and pulled his puffy skirt in around his knees so the taller boy couldn’t see him. It was a good hiding spot. He could hear Ryuichi looking for him and he held his hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles.

“RAAAARRRR!!! Where’s my sweet tasty princess?? I’m a hungry, hungry dragon and I want to gobble him ALL UP!!! RAAARRR!!!!”

The little blond could hear the heavy footsteps drawing closer and closer and he held his breath in anticipation, twining his fingers in the fabric of his dress nervously, finding comfort in the softness, as he had in his mother’s skirt.

Suddenly a dark head popped around the side of his dollhouse. Ryuichi looked down at him, the big boy was down on his knees now; crawling menacingly towards him with his thick black hair tumbling over his brow wildly. He was dressed all in black. Midnight black that shimmered just a little, like the scales of the Dragon in Akihito’s dreams. His white teeth were bared and his golden eyes glowed with hunger. A wild hunger. Voracious. Ravenous. He looked for all the world as if he really intended to eat Akihito all up. Consume him.

The child gasped in fright and scooted backwards, shaking his head and trying desperately to get away. He didn’t want to be eaten. He didn’t! He didn’t! Ryuichi’s giant hand snaked out and grabbed his foot, dragging it out from under his dress, raising it slowly to his mouth. His lips parted and his tongue flicked out and licked his little pink toes. Akihito screamed then; loud, terrified shrieks of pure horror. He was going to eat him, starting with his toes!!

He screamed at the top of his tiny lungs, “EEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!”

Ryuichi’s expression immediately changed from one of rapacious hunger to one of loving concern and he released Akihito’s dainty foot immediately. He allowed the little boy to escape and crawl away, but once he had cornered himself, the older boy moved in carefully, so as not to startle him further.

He crouched down before him. The little blond had his face hidden in his pretty pink dress. Ryuichi could hear him blowing his nose in it. He smiled. Akihito had no way of knowing that you shouldn’t blow your nose in chiffon, that it would ruin it. But it didn’t matter. He would buy him more. A hundred. A thousand. However many it took, just to see him smile. He always loved the soft, radiant smile on the boy’s pretty face when he tried on a new dress and twirled so he could see it swirl around his legs. It wasn’t that Ryuichi himself liked dresses. He just liked Akihito. And Akihito liked dresses. And Ryuichi loved seeing that smile so much, he just couldn’t help but buy them. He knew he should stop, but he just… couldn’t help himself. And there was the added bonus that the little blond did look so very pretty in them. Even when he cried.

He spoke softly, gently, “Akihito, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He was a Dragon and he very, very good at being frightening. Awe-inspiring. Terrifying. It was a talent he had realized at a very young age and used it to his advantage. But he never meant to frighten Akihito. Not him. Not ever. Ryuichi let the regret and sadness he felt show on his face and come through in his voice. He knew the boy’s tender heart wouldn’t be able to resist comforting him, even in his fear.

He was right.

Akihito sniffled and raised his head, blinking through little jewel like tears before throwing himself into Ryuichi’s arms. The older boy smiled and held him tightly as the little blond sobbed hysterically, panting for breath as he cradled him in his arms and rubbed circles on his thin back to calm him down.

“Da-dd-y- I- hic- th-thought- you were a REAL hic-hiccup- Dragon and you were-hic- gonna- hic- EAT ME!!!”

Blue eyes burst into tears again and he buried his face in anguish. Ryuichi held him close and rocked him gently, “Sssshhh princess. I would never hurt you. Never, ever, ever! Dragons don’t eat princesses Akihito, they protect them from all the bad things in the world. All the mean things that would tear their dresses and hurt them and make them cry. Dragons protect princesses, because princesses can’t protect themselves. I am a real Dragon, Princess, but I’m YOUR Dragon. ”

Akihito looked up at Ryuichi’s face. His long lashes were clumped together and dark from his tears. They were so long and so, so pretty. He was confused now, “How can you be my Daddy and my Dragon?”

The teenager nuzzled the soft plush skin of the little boy’s cheek, feathering kisses all over his face as he spoke, “I am whatever you need me to be. Anything. Because you’re my Princess and I love you the most, in the whole world. I’ll always protect you and keep you safe.”

“Always?”

Ryuichi sealed his promise with a hungry kiss placed in the corner of Akihito’s beautiful, lovely, perfect, pink lips.

“Always.”

-


	5. Chronophilia

Asami’s golden eyes raked down his naked flesh, the pale, exposed ladder of his back.

The fact that he was still fully clothed made Akihito feel even more naked and vulnerable.

Akihito could feel the shivers starting, his limbs beginning to quake, but the trembling didn’t begin in earnest until he saw Asami take off his suit coat and slowly begin to roll the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows, exposing his strong muscular forearms and rippling muscles. His long fingers flexed, gripping the air as if rehearsing and Akihito drew a sharp breath in. He was either preparing to squeeze something or was releasing the tension from having just squeezed something. Akihito wondered which it was.

He shifted back around in the tub to face forward and hide his anxiety. The water swayed and splashed side to side around him. He knew he shouldn’t ask. He knew he shouldn’t… but he had to. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Asami when he did though. He kept his eyes and fingers occupied, using a scrubby to clean between his already clean toes.

“Is he…. I mean… Did you...did he...”

Akihito fumbled and scowled at his foot and his inability to say what he meant.

Asami moved silently to kneel at the side of the tub. A strong hand wrapped around the sole of his right foot and took it away from him. He held it tightly, under the heel, and Akihito didn’t even try and pull it back from his grasp. His other hand lifted the sponge from Aki’s fingertips. He scrubbed it while the pads of his strong fingers pressed just-so into the arch of Akihito’s foot, rolling and digging into the sensitive spot just behind the ball of his foot; the spot that always got a little sore when Akihito wore heels. He tried not to groan at how good it felt, how sensual and how well Asami knew his body…. in other ways as well.

He stifled the groan that welled up in him, but still released a small sigh of pleasure and the other man’s eyes flashed. His expression was blank though and it did not change. His strong thumbs knowingly rubbed circles up the pad of Akihito’s heel and the side of his high arch and the ball of his foot. He spread his toes and stretched them, singling each one out and rolling them between his fingertips. It felt so good. Just too good. Akihito didn’t even try to keep the pleasure off his face. His Daddy knew what he felt anyway. He knew everything.

For a long moment they were silent except for the sound of the water lapping at the edges of the porcelain tub.

“What was it you wanted to ask me, Princess?”

Akihito suddenly felt ashamed for his bad thoughts. He didn’t want to ask Asami now, if the stranger were dead. It felt too much like an accusation. So he just hedged his bets and made an offer of defense for the man, “He didn’t hurt me.”

He was unaware of how earnest and vulnerable his blue eyes were, how very obvious his concern and worry for the stranger was. Asami smiled comfortingly at him, irritated that his Princess would feel such concern for another man and at the same time, wanting to take his worries away, “I’m glad baby, very glad.” There was a sudden cruel glimmer in his golden eyes and he added almost as an afterthought, “And so is he.”

Akihito didn’t know what to say to that and was quiet. After a little while Asami spoke again. There was a cold look in his eyes, “Where did he touch you?”

The sudden question was unexpected and Akihito hesitated for a moment before he answered, “Oh, uh, on my thigh.”

“Above or below your garter, honey?”

Akihito didn’t want to answer that. He knew it would make Asami angry, that the stranger had touched his bare skin, but there was nothing for it. If he lied, he would know. He always knew.

“Above.”

“Show me.”

Akihito knew better than to mistake the quiet statement for a request.

Somewhat reluctantly, because he was naked and also because the water was warm and the room was cold, he stood up. Water streamed in rivulets over his body. He wanted to put his hands over his crotch and hide the embarrassing cockcage from view, but he didn’t. He knew better than to hide his body from Daddy. He kept his hands at his side and tried his best not to squirm as Asami’s hot gaze heated his exposed flesh.

“You’re so pretty baby. So, so pretty.” Asami hummed to himself as his fingertips stroked the sides of Akihito’s outer thighs and then brushed around the the inside. He touched him like fine china, to be taken out and used on only the most special of occasions.

Akihito shuddered and the bathwater rippled with the movement.

He couldn’t help but respond to the warm, strong hands on his skin, moving so closer, rough fingertips brushing against the soft velvety skin of his inner thigh. They felt so warm, almost hot, against the cooling water droplets from the bath. It was all he could do not to jerk his hips and beg these hands to float higher. He ached to be touched. So badly. His cock swelled in its cage, pressing against the gold lattice like a child who has been trapped too long in a car, pressing their face against the glass, eager to get to their destination and stand and stretch beneath an open sky.

“Oh my beautiful, beautiful boy. How you possess me….”

Asami kissed the delicate skin, where the man’s hands had touched him. He pressed kiss after kiss until it tingled and then he rubbed his cheek against it. Asami was always clean shaven, but late in the evenings there was just a hint of scruff; a roughness that contrasted with Akihito’s smoothness. It never felt to arouse and excite him. It tingled and the sensitive skin began to burn a little, turning pink and then red as the strong man stilled his wiggling and held him in place with his strong hands so that he could continue to rub his face against Akihito’s pink inner thighs. He looked down at Asami, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright and bit back his protests at the look on Asami’s handsome face. His eyes looked glazed, his hair wild, his pupils blown.

He wanted patiently for the other man to speak. He knew what Asami was going to say. How it would begin...

“Do you need me Princess?”

It was the same question his Daddy had been asking him all of his life. The context had changed as he had gotten older. But the answer never did.

Akihito sighed, “Yes Daddy, I need you.”

Asami’s eyes flashed and again came the reply, as steady and constant as waves rushing towards the shoreline, “Not as much as I need you, my love.”

The blond couldn’t understand his answer. How could Asami need him? What use was he to him? He spent his days locked in the penthouse, useless, and the handsome, powerful man could have had anyone. But Akihito didn’t question the answer. The truth in it was there to see, written plainly on Asami’s face and he gazed on him with raw possessive hunger, lust and need. It never failed to affect him. It made him feel beautiful, cherished and wanted. So wanted.

Heated lips were pressed to his stomach and strong hands wrapped about his hips, slowly turning him to face the other direction. Akihito’s eyes met his own in the mirror that hung above the bath. He vaguely noticed the large black shadow behind him. Steam had made it foggy, but Akihito couldn’t help but feel that the reflection was accurate. He felt fuzzy too. The space between his ears was buzzing and his tongue felt heavy.

“Kneel down Akihito.”

His name snapped him awake, back the present and his lithe body bowed down, his knobby knees resting somewhat uncomfortably on the hard porcelain. He knew he wouldn’t be there long though. Asami knew how much he hated this part. He would get it over with as fast as he could, Akihito knew that. And even though it was both humiliating and uncomfortable, he knew it was a mercy too. He was not allowed to cum without Asami’s permission and if Asami didn’t do this for him, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. The burning, aching pressure would demand to be released and he would explode the moment the cage was taken off.

“Breathe baby, just breathe.”

Akihito took a deep steadying breath and wiggled his knees a little wider apart to make the intrusion easier. It had been a week since he had been penetrated and he knew that would make it more uncomfortable. But Daddy would be gentle, he knew that too. He took another deep breath as he felt Asami’s thick finger swirl slick across his entrance and press just inside. His lungs filled with the pungent smell of oil and roses.

"I know its been longer than usual Akihito and I’m going to do my best not to hurt you, but its going to be a bit uncomfortable, even still. Deep breaths. Try to relax."

Akihito followed his instructions, holding very still, taking deep breaths from his belly. concentrating on helping the process along as best he was able. There wasn’t much he could do, other than just relax and take what he was given. He moaned as he felt Asami’s long, thick index finger slid into him. He didn’t pause or stop to give him time to adjust, he just sank it home, all in one go. The feeling was almost overwhelming; both the pain of his cramping anus and the way the pressure increased in his balls. Akihito’s head spun and he dropped it down, resting his forehead on the edge of the tub even as he gripped the porcelain ledge tightly. Mercifully, once it was all the way in, Asami stopped to let him adjust. His ass clenched involuntarily around it. Akihito’s rectum had always been extremely sensitive. He whimpered helplessly, his knees shifting in small circles on the bottom of the slippery tub. At some point Asami had pulled the plug and all the warm water was beginning to drain out, leaving him cold and wet where he knelt. He focused on his breathing, trying not to shiver because he knew it would make the spasms in his backside worse.

His one finger felt huge, Akihito tried to not to remember how much bigger Asami’s cock was than his finger.

He preened as the older man praised him, "Good Princess, you’re so good for me baby. God you’re so tight. So soft. Such tender little ridges..."

He slowly started massaging around inside of him, working slowly his way in and out, relaxing each band of muscle incrementally. Akihito moaned involuntarily, a deep guttural moan from somewhere deep in his belly. His cheeks blushed flame red in embarrassment at the inelegant sound.

Asami chuckled darkly from behind him, “Thats alright love, let it out for me. Tell me how good Daddy is making you feel. Daddy loves you so much.”

He rubbed circles on Akihito’s lower back with his big warm hand and Akihito began to feel very relaxed, almost sleepy, from the internal and external massage and the deep breathing. The contractions of his ass grew softer, gentler and soon completely stopped as the tight sphincter muscles submitted and slackened; welcomed the intruder further in. Asami chuckled in victory, then began finger-fucking him with more force, pressing deeper and deeper into his soft, slippery anus with every stroke. Akihito let out a low, long moan and rolled his head side to side, pressing his backside back and up, presenting it for more. The pressure was growing unbearable. His cock was swelling, engorged with blood and it was pressing against the merciless cockcage so hard Akihito could feel each bar and he worried it would end up imprinted on the flesh of his dick. Like a permanent tattoo. A badge of Asami’s ownership. The other man’s fingertip was beginning to brush experimentally against that special spot deep in his abdomen and it throbbed and ached inside him for more attention. He never went for it unless Akihito was completely relaxed and the boy bit his lip to hold back the scream and tried to relax his muscles more, encouraging Asami to press against it harder. The feeling was agonizing, uncomfortable, like a slow burn; deep, deep in his guts….. but somehow still pleasurable.

Asami gauged his level of submission by the relaxation of his body and the soft noises of pleasure Akihito himself didn’t even realize he was making. Finally he began to press insistently against the thick nub of tissues inside the boy’s rectum. His golden eyes were glowing intensely as he zeroed in on his goal like a bullseye, rubbing and massaging at it with a single calloused fingertip. He shoved hard against it, thinking that Akihito was ready for his release. He pressed and held it, rubbing his back and holding him still simultaneously with his other hand. Akihito gasped and arched his back almost violently, but he didn’t void.

The other man hummed in disappointment, "Mmm... sweet boy. So good for me. You like that? When I rub your little G-spot?" Akihito could only groan incoherently. “Let it go honey, let it go and then we’ll play. I’ll play with your poor little boy-clit. It hurts doesn’t it? Trapped so tight in its little cage. You need me to touch it for you, don’t you baby? Well, then you have to relax and take what I give you.”

Akihito gasped at the gentle taunting; suddenly angry and frustrated. It felt like there was a gallon of semen stored up inside his throbbing testicles, and it was screaming, building by the moment. But he felt miles away from an orgasm. His penis was still trapped in its cage and painfully constricted by the hard metal. And there was a horrible, overfull feeling in his balls. It was an uncomfortable pain that was impossible to ignore. He keened and wailed and kicked his feet in frustration against the side of the tub. It hurt. He wanted to stop now, he wanted it to be over it needed to be OVER now.

Asami didn't give up; he kept working his fingers against Akihito’s prostate, massaging firmly, quickly, with an insistent rhythm, pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing, like a milkmaid might knead a cow’s udders, slowly coaxing the milk down from her belly.

He cupped his free hand under the boy’s balls and kneaded them gently. And at last, he felt the boy’s entire body shudder in a quaking ripple. He moved his hand quickly under the cockcage, wanting to hold the fruit of his labor in his palm. Milky cum poured out of the boy’s slit into Asami’s cupped hand in a steady liquid stream as if he was pissing. It filled quickly and ran over his fingers and into the tub. Akihito moaned, his eyelids fluttering as his entire body spasmed wildly. His asshole clenched tightly around Asami’s fingers as if trying now to force it back out but the other man was stronger than he was and kept his finger pressed up insistently high and tight against that spot inside him. It kept him spasming, hard, with unbelievable force, and each contraction sent waves of relief and ecstasy through him. It was as if he had been holding his bladder for a week and was finally allowed to relieve himself, but it was far more intense even than that. It was mind-numbing pleasure and poker-hot pain and everything in between. It lasted for a full minute. It was the most incredible feeling in the world. Cum was pouring out of him, into Asami’s hand, which was still firmly cupped between his legs. He did not release the pressure on his prostate, even after Akihito began to shudder and tremble violently, even after the steady steam subsided. Asami didn’t withdraw his finger from the boy’s clenching backside until Akihito’s entire body went limp and he needed that other hand to catch the blond and lay him down in the tub on his back.

Akihito thought he might have napped for a bit or perhaps fainted because everything went dark and the buzzing in his ears was gone and when he awoke, the tub was full of clean hot water again and Asami was holding his foot again. It was like everything that had just happened had been a dream. He would have thought it all in his mind if it hadn’t been for the wet, loose, sated feeling in his backside and testicles. The itching, driving lust and need of the past week was gone and all he felt was fantastic. He smiled and stretched languidly in the hot water.

Asami looked pleased, “Did you enjoy that Princess?”

He lifted Akihito’s foot to his lips and placed a kiss on the arch as delicately and reverently as a courtier might kiss the hand of royalty. Akihito suddenly felt annoyed by the endearment. The Princess and the Dragon. It was a game he had played with Asami when he was a little boy. He never thought it would become his whole life.

When he was a child, there was nothing that he wanted more than to be a Princess; dressed in the prettiest gowns, beautiful, cosseted and adored.

Akihito looked down at Asami as the older man continued to worship his foot and thought to himself..... ‘Be careful what you wish for.’

-

 


	6. Flashback

She was the second wife. The second wife of a widower. Therein lay the problem. Well. There were many problems but the biggest was this; she was the SECOND. And the First? She had died in the most angelic way the wife of a yakuza could die; in the childbirth of a healthy baby boy. The second one that she had given the kumicho; the head of the Takaba yakuza. It didn’t matter that she had had the face of a harpy and the voice of one too. It didn’t matter that she had made everyone’s lives a living hell with her passive spite and cruelty. No. The First Wife had given Takaba-sama two strong male heirs to carry on the family name, the spitting image of their fathers, and then she had died quietly fulfilling her duty. She had been a pawn between two clans, the quiet and plain daughter of one yakuza bartered and married to the son of another yakuza head to cement their merger and partnership. The snake that had risen from the unholy union was the Takaba yakuza. They were a special breed of yakuzas. Many clans were in fact known for their good deeds, the rogue justice they imparted. But not the Takabas. They were cruel simply because they could be.

Or perhaps, because they couldn’t NOT be.

The Takaba yakuza reminded her of a rabid dog she had seen once in her village. The man was just walking by, but he happened to look at the dog, perhaps a second too long or perhaps too directly. It latched onto his leg. For no apparent reason at all, it just snapped. Maybe it got thirsty for blood, she didn’t know, but it wouldn’t let go. It didn’t matter what was done, how the man screamed, cried and thrashed. When others came and beat the dog with clubs and fists. It was merciless. It was as if it was possessed, it sank its long sharp teeth into his flesh and held fast to the bone until another man finally shot it point blank between the eyes. That, she felt was the essence of the Takaba clan; rabidness. Pure, vicious, evil; like a disease that was carried in tainted blood.

Those who laid down in bed with them never got out. You never paid the Takabas back. Ever. No matter how much you gave; in coin, blood or tears. They never forgave a debt. Once they loaned you money, they owned you forever. And your children. They were heartless human traffickers. The screams of the boys and girls taken from the families by the Takabas and sold into slavery rang in her ears still. They would cut out an eye for looking at them the wrong way, break kneecaps just for the amusement of seeing a man crawl, rape a woman just to hear her scream. And the second wife’s husband, the Kumicho, delighted in it. Delighted in having the baddest, sickest, craziest mafia in town. No one crossed them… No one, but the Asamis; the other main yakuza clan in Tokyo. Between the two of them, they had eaten up every small gang and grown like cancer across the land. An uneasy truce had been formed simply because they were equal in power and might and to go head to head would likely mean the death of both. All the territory had been divided and pissed on until the streets stank of urine.

It was like two rabid, starving dogs, frothing at the mouth, circling one another waiting for the other to falter so he could consume him. Both were just as crazy, just as violent and just as terrifying. But until one knew for certain that he was stronger than the other…. until one was sure he could win… there would be no attack.

The peace wouldn’t last forever.

One day it would erupt and she would be caught in the middle.

The second wife hadn’t signed up for this. She hadn’t known any of this. She had been a pretty girl with a pretty voice. Not a beautiful voice; not good enough to get noticed in her home country where pretty blond haired, blue eyed girls with nice voices were a dime a dozen. She would have been relegated to the chorus, the background noise. Eventually a working man would noticed her among the others, because her face or her hair reminded him of his mother. He would have offered her a small diamond, a home and a life and security. She would have taken it, eager to leave the stage and the pain of being so close to the bright light and knowing that the spotlight would never be hers. She could have been the wife of a bank teller or a dentist. He would have made good money, but not enough for servants or pretty dresses. She would have had to work hard; to keep the house clean and the babies fed. Her dresses would have been cotton, plain and serviceable and faded on the knees and elbows. She would have had two nice dresses; one black wool for funerals and the other white satin; her wedding dress. Which she would get to wear only once. Just once. Just like her mother, and her mother before her and her mother before her.

That life wasn’t good enough for her. The second wife had wanted to be a princess. How she had ached to shine like a star and she knew her time was limited. The beauty of a woman peaks just after her teens, it blossoms for a few years and then quickly, so quickly; it fades away. So she had come to the East, where golden hair and blue eyes were said to be prized and her thick French accent was seen as exotic instead of the cockneyed country twang that it would have sounded like in Paris. She had come to catch the eye of a rich man, a man rich enough to fulfill her dreams of becoming royal.

And she had succeeded.

On the very first night singing in his club, Takaba-sama had seen her and wanted her.

And he had not stopped until he had gotten her.

She had had a very high opinion of herself back then. She was not content to be some yakuza’s mistress. No, she had held her nose high in the air and squeezed her thighs tightly together; protecting the only coin she had to barter. He wanted to make her his mistress, but no, she would be his wife only. Back then she thought there was a difference. Now though? She knew better. When you sold your body and your life and your soul for money, whether in an alley or a hotel room or on an altar, you were still a whore.

Prostitute, mistress or wife. They were all functionally the same in the world of the yakuzas. They had one function and on function only; to keep their lips shut, their legs open and deliver healthy baby boys to carry on a legacy of trading red for green. What happened to the women afterwards? Well, that didn’t matter very much as long as they kept out of sight and out of mind and didn’t put up too much of a fuss about the way her sons were raised and the many mistresses her husband would keep. Dying after delivering a second healthy son; that was the perfect end to a yakuza wife’s tale. The first wife might as well have been sainted.

It was a hard act to follow. The second wife didn’t stand a chance.

But to be the a wife of a wealthy man… that was what she had wanted back then and on her wedding day, she thought she had won, in the scheme of things. Takaba-sama was rich. Obscenely rich. Filthy rich. She hadn’t known than that his fortune was built on piles of bodies, broken dreams and the screams of children. The second wife hadn’t realized that if you married the devil himself, it meant you lived in hell with him. All the clothes and diamonds and money in the world wouldn’t change that fact.

The murderer and the whore, married in hell and yet… somehow…. she had given birth…. to an angel.

Her sweet little angel. Her Akihito.

She had chosen the name herself and it had been recorded before his father had arrived at the hospital. He had been too busy to show up for the birth of a third, unwanted son. Much less one with ‘foreign’ blood.

Once excitement of the chase and the novelty of bedding a blonde had worn off, Takaba-sama’s xenophobic roots began to reappear. Almost as soon as her belly had begun to grow, the regret he felt at tainting his pure Japanese blood with a foreigner’s had emerged like a snake from its skin.

Takaba-san hadn’t wanted another son. Not really. Two were good. An heir and a back-up. More could be a problem. More could mean tension in the family; rivalries… in-fighting…. blood feuds…. A third was just a liability. Yes, he was very proud of his two pure-blooded sons. Especially because the head of the Asami clan, had only one son. From what she had heard of that boy though, she felt one was quite enough. The stories she had heard about him were enough to make her shudder.

The Asami heir was said to be a natural killer. Coldblooded, emotionless. It was said the he showed no mercy. Seemed to feel no pain. He was methodical, intelligent and utterly ruthless. Rumor was, on his sixteenth birthday, he had walked into a clan meeting and informed his father’s second in command that he was taking over. When he had protested, it was rumoured that the teen had shot him point blank between the eyes; a man that he had known since birth, who had had as much a hand in raising him as his own father. Takaba-sama had laughed at story and said it displayed the youthful arrogance of an heir unfit to lead. He had eagerly waited for the teenager to fail, to end up dead or in jail, to lead the Asamis to ruin. But that had not been the case. That had not been the case at all.

Apparently he was some sort of tactical genius; financial whiz-kid. The Asamis were growing exponentially in wealth and power and influence, extending even into legitimate business now. It was making the Takabas very, very nervous.

The Takaba heir was twelve and his name was Takeo or ‘violent warrior’. The second son was ten; his name was Takeshi meaning ‘fierce’. The second wife had hoped the difference in ages might protect her son from any jealousy or rivalry that might spring up between him and his brothers. She had hoped he might not be drawn into all of that. She gave him a name she hoped would protect him and lead him down a different path, away from the darkness that surrounded her. She had seen his beautiful blond hair and his lovely blue eyes and she had named him ‘Bright’. Her bright boy; Akihito.

Takaba-sama had beaten her for that. But he hadn’t bothered to change the name. To do so would have been to admit she had gone above him and he would never do that.

So he just punished her.

And Akihito.

He punished the second wife for being the second. For not being quiet and subservient like the first. For not understanding his world. For drawing attention to herself with her beauty. Because of her accent. Because she was foreign. He beat her when he felt jealous. When he felt angry. But mostly when he was horny. Because he liked it when she cried. And he loved to hurt her in the places only women could hurt.

Pain fueled his lust; her pain.

She should have known his sadism would not end at the doorway to their home. His cruelty and his spite and his rapacious lust for human suffering; they were the tools of his trade. It wasn’t like a briefcase she could take and place in the closet as she welcomed him home with a kiss and then take back out and hand to him in the mornings as he left. He carried them with him all the time.

The second wife, he hurt in private. But the third son, he didn’t hurt at all.

He left that up to the first and the second. He wanted them to be as fearsome as the Asami heir, to have just as great and terrible a reputation and so he fostered their natural talent for cruelty. He nurtured it the same way a lover of music might nurture talent for the piano in their young. Carefully, lovingly, hoping one day; their skills might exceed even his own.

And with their father’s encouragement and blessing, the sadism of his sons blossomed. Their young fists grew hard and their black eyes were dark with cruelty. They were different from her sweet Akihito in every way. Where he was small and fine boned, they were large; large, husky boy with big muscles, broad faces, beady eyes and heavy bones. Where he was light, they were dark. And where he was weak, they were strong. Where they were ugly, Akihito was beautiful. Very beautiful, with lovely peach skin, wide crystal eyes and full lips like roses. He was tiny and small, like a little china doll. And just as breakable.

And the Takaba boys loved to break things.

It was hard to believe they shared even a drop of blood. Had her own little boy found a bird with a broken wing, he would have nursed it diligently, loved it, cared for it and when it was well, he would have let it go and cheered as it soared. If the first, Takeo, had found a bird with a broken wing, he would have torn it open, just to see the blood and hear it scream. If the second, Takeshi, had found it, he would have caged it and taken it apart, piece by piece. He would have tortured it every day, but not enough to kill it. He would have made it WANT to die. And then, only then, would he have killed it. Slowly. Piece by piece.

A sadist that understands the pleasures of delayed gratification is always far more terrifying than one who acts on impulse.

Takeo and Takeshi. Those were the monsters her husband had chosen to send after her son. Her poor, sweet innocent son. All the things she cherished about him, were things her husband saw as weakness. He saw her precious baby as a source of embarrassment, humiliation. Akihito was sensitive. He cried easily, when he was both happy and sad. He liked pink and he loved glitter. He loved to run his fingers over her satin dresses and would clap his tiny hands with glee when she twirled for him. He liked to play dress up and he loved to cuddle dolls and stuffed animals. He played quietly and liked to build things. The little blond was pretty. He was small. He was polite. Empathic and caring. Gentle. Loving. Sweet.

Those were his sins.

And for that, his fathers and his brothers punished him endlessly. Most of the insults he was to young to understand, but his sensitive heart heard the hatred and disgust.... and he thought there was something wrong with him. His father would brush him aside, push him away when he came to close and the little boy learned to stay away. His brothers did just the opposite. They sought him out. Practicing their craft on a victim who could not escape.

Who could make Akihito cry first. Who could make him cry loudest. Who could make him scream. Who could make him puke. Who could make him sob until he choked on his own vomit. Those were the sorts of games the older boys liked to play with their helpless baby brother.

Try as she might to protect her son, they always found new ways of torturing him and it was quickly getting out of hand. The physical injuries were growing more and more serious. The second wife felt that it was time for his father to rein it in. She had thought perhaps he hadn’t noticed how cruel the other boys were being. How dangerous and sadistic their bullying had become. She knew they were his favorites, that was clear, perfectly….. but she hadn’t thought he really wanted Akihito dead.

But that was because she didn’t really understand his world.

Even after all this time, she still didn’t get it…. Weakness was death. Any weakness, whether perceived or real, had to be exterminated because any weakness a yakuza showed was a chance for his enemies to take advantage. To win.

Weakness could not be tolerated. It had to be purged.

_Only the strong survive._

The second wife had learned her lesson well.

She had gone to confront him about the welts and bruises all over the tiny toddler, blisters on his arms, the cuts and scrapes on his back from where he had ‘fallen’ down the stairs, the burns on his teeny feet. She was hoping he would put a stop to his brother’s torture, once and for all. She was still his wife. And Akihito was still his son. She had put on her best dress. She had painted her nails and put on her stockings. Her lips were red and her long blonde lashes were curled and darkened with mascara. Her waist length golden hair was brushed until it shined and shimmered like silk and pinned up in an elaborate coiffure that Takaba-sama had liked. When he liked things about her.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

The second wife had gone to him with her beauty in supplication to his manhood; the proverbial lamb before the slaughter.

He had found her defense of Akihito’ weakness to be a weakness itself.

He punished her for it as he always did. He had beaten her and raped her on the floor, bleeding from every hole she had, his dick in her ass and his gun shoved up her vagina. He had not fucked her cunt since she had gotten pregnant with Akihito, not willing to risk another ‘mistake’.

The second wife had crawled back to her room, feeling her way along the floor; both eyes swollen shut from her broken nose and ruined cheekbone.

Her beauty was nothing now.

She wasn’t a princess now. He had taken her crown and brought her to her knees.

She was nothing.

The only thing that mattered was her precious Akihito. Her little angel, trapped in hell and surrounded by demons. There was no one who could save him now. She could no more protect him than she could protect herself.

The second wife crawled slowly across the floor, blood ran down her chin and spattered on the carpet and her knees smeared it as she crawled. More still ran from between her legs and the story of her struggle to her son’s bedside was outlined in red. She fumbled in the dark, her hands scrabbling across the carpet until she found the bedpost and she pulled herself up it until she knelt beside the bed. Her small hand felt gently for the little bundle under the covers. Her sweet, precious Akihito whom she had tucked in bed and sang softly to sleep, not thirty minutes ago. She was careful not to wake him as she curled her battered body around him and she was careful not to put pressure on his own bruises. They were so vivid on his pale skin. Blooms of green and yellow and purple with small blisters of bright blood red. Old and new, growing and blossoming over his tiny body like a cancer.

The same cancer she was dying of.

There was only one way out of a yakuza marriage. To them, vows were sacred and the breaking of one might mean the breaking of others. The yakuza blood oath was unbreakable. Death was the only way out. Death was her only way out. And Akihito’s.

The second wife buried her broken, bloodied face into the bruised, battered back of her sweet baby boy. Her Akihito, whose beauty was seen as a weakness, who was being punished for her sins and whose fate was the same as her own.

The second wife held the third son as he slept and she cried. She cried and her tears washed her cheeks clean. Pale rivers of skin shined bright between oceans of blood.

The broken princess didn’t pray for a prince that night.

She prayed for a Dragon.

-


	7. Klismaphilia, Asphyxiophilia

Akihito lay in the tub helplessly and watched Asami as he placed one last kiss to the top of his right foot and then slowly laid it back in the warm water. He stood tall, looming over the tub and for a moment, it made Akihito tremble… but then he turned and walked to the marble vanity and opened the lighted medicine cabinet. There were two bottles inside. Akihito watched intently, wondering which one he would pick.

If Asami were angry with him and he were being punished, he wouldn’t pick either. He would shut the cabinet and Akihito would go to bed, milked, but untouched. That was very unusual though. If he were feeling gentle, loving and kind, he would pick the smaller bottle; the douche. He would cleanse Akihito gently and then lay him down and make love to him like he might break. He would hold him tightly and stroke his hair and whisper how much he was cherished until Akihito fell asleep; warm and loved and comforted…. But if Asami was hungry…. and he chose the larger bottle, the enema, it meant Akihito was going to get fucked like an animal, all night long. It was Asami’s way of saying ‘I’m going to climb up inside you and consume you’. Akihito would come until he hurt, Asami would fuck him like he was trying to core him out from the inside and he would fall asleep with Asami still penetrating him, pistoning into him, possessing him… completely. It was on those nights that Akihito fell asleep… satisfied.

Akihito held his breath as Asami’s hand rose…..

He chose the enema.

The boy began to tremble in fear and anticipation as he watched Asami test the tap water before he filled the bag. Not too cold and not too warm. He didn’t do it to be cruel, at least, not the two quart enema. The four quart punishment enemas with castor oil were another story, but Akihito hadn’t done anything to deserve one of those in a long time. He had been a very good boy. So he knew that this was about wanting to keep him clean and comfortable. Akihito wanted to get out of the tub, but he waited patiently. Asami liked to do it.

The older man came back and set the bag next to the tub. He unfolded a large pink bathtowel with Akihito’s name embroidered on it and threw it over his arm. In his white dress shirt, pin-striped vest and suit pants, with his coat discarded, he looked just like a butler. He gallantly held out his hand to help Akihito from the tub and then enfolded his slender body in the plush towel, gently rubbing and massaging the water from his skin and then wrapped him tightly in the towel and lifted him into his arms.

His voice was gruff and hoarse, “Do you trust me Princess?”

Akihito replied in a soft voice, “Yes, Daddy.”

He laid him on the floor, on top of a special soft mat purchased just for this. It looked rather like a doggy bed, with the name Princess embroidered on the side. It wasn’t a dog bed, of course, it just looked like one. He helped him kneel on it. Akihito lowered his head and chest forward until the left side of his face was resting on the mat, his bottom raised high in the air. His anus was completely exposed, his genitals hanging down between his thighs. He had no secrets in this position. Asami brushed his fingers over Akihito’s pucker like a kiss and gently inserted the oiled nozzle. His hands were quick and clinical as he inflated the ball that would keep it in place. Akihito felt it balloon, pressing against the soft insides of his rectum while the tight ring of his anus held it in place. Asami stood above him and held the enema bag aloft himself. Gravity did all the work and as soon as Asami released the clip, the bag began to empty into the hose. Moments later, Akihito felt the warm water filling him. It was a sensation he was well familiar with and he did not clench up in response. He breathed like he did when Asami milked him and relaxed his abdomen; allowing the fluid to go farther in, gravity pulling it down. His abdomen started to distend and Akihito pushed up to rest on his hands and knees, so as to slow the flow down a bit. He moaned quietly to himself.

Asami gave another squeeze to the enema bag and stroked his trembling back tenderly, murmuring, “There’s my good boy. I am so proud of you, thats almost all of it'.

Akihito felt a warm pride spreading in his chest, but as his Daddy pumped the last bit of the enema into him, his guts began to churn uncomfortably. This was always the hardest part. Now that it was inside him, he had to lay on his side and let the water soak into him. Asami gently supported his back as if he were pregnant, helping him to slowly roll to his side and lay down. His swollen belly felt impossibly heavy and full and he could feel the water practically sloshing inside him, even as carefully as he rolled over. The tubing was removed, but the nozzle and inflatable plug remained. That was a kindness. When he was given punishment enemas, Asami pulled out the plug too and Akihito was expected to hold it by himself without spilling a single drop. If he did, they started over. Punishment enemas were really miserable. But even the regular ones were a bit uncomfortable. He felt SO full.

He laid his head on the floor and groaned piteously. Asami leaned down and smacked his ass in reprimand. He stood over him and smirked, “I know very well you can take much more than that Princess.”

Akihito pouted, “Its still uncomfortable.”

“I know love, but worth it, isn’t it? To be clean?”

Aki nodded and dropped his eyes to Asami’s shining black loafers where they stood just inches from where he lay. He wanted to lick them, but he knew Asami wouldn’t let him. He didn’t let him do anything degrading, not even suck on his cock. He said it wasn’t befitting a Princess, that Princesses lived to be served.

The older man looked at his watch, “Just a few more minutes to go. Lets roll over.”

He knelt down and helped Akihito turn to his other side, his large hands holding the boy’s round little belly and supporting it. Akihito took a deep gasping breaths as he felt the water moving inside him, dropping and flushing and moving everything inside him. He could feel the movement and knew the water had done its job. His lashes fluttered up helplessly, “Please Daddy, can I go potty now?”

Asami frowned, “Has it been long enough? Are you ready?”

Akihito nodded vehemently and the other man smiled, “Alright then, I trust you. Let’s go potty.”

He picked him up again so easily. It surprised Akihito as it always did. He knew logically that the additional fluid inside him couldn’t have added much weight, but still… it felt so heavy inside his own small body. Asami carried him bridal style into the water closet and placed him on the toilet. His throne, Akihito wanted to joke, but the look on Asami’s face was so serious. So intense.

He kissed him on the lips and drew away slowly, warning, “Don’t take too long, I need you.”

Akihito whispered, “I need you too.”

Asami shook his head and for a moment, the look on his face was pained, “Not as much as I need you.”

The door was closed softly behind him and Akihito heard classical music. He was always given total privacy for this part. The toilet was sound proof, but even still, Asami had had the speakers installed to make him feel comfortable. Akihito hated the noises he made. So embarrassing. He knew Asami would have stayed to watch, he wanted to share everything, not be parted for even a moment…. but Akihito had cried once in humiliation of the noises and from then on Asami had stayed outside while he relieved himself. That was when he had made the modifications to the water closet as well. Akihito smiled as he hung his head, grateful that he could do this in peace without the shame of being overheard. His Daddy was so considerate of his feelings.

Once he was finished, Akihito moved to straddle the bidet and the gentle pulsing water rinsed his backside clean and the warm air dried his tender skin until it was warm and pink. A mirror hung across the water closet and on a hook on the back of the door hung his trouseau; a garter, panties, bustier, peignoir and underneath the ensemble was placed two delicate kitten heels with Marabou feathers on the toes.

He slipped the garter on first, stretching the satin and lace band until it fit tightly over his right thigh. The crotchless panties came next, demurely concealing the cock cage and riding over his delicate hipbones while his testicles dangled almost lewdly out the hole in the crotch, which also exposed his entire crack and pucker. The white satin of the panties and garter coordinated with his corset, it was a custom made for the contours of his body. When properly laced, it neither pinched nor constricted him. It applied pressure, but perfectly distributed throughout the corset. It was lined with cotton twill and supported with steel bones. It had front fastening and back lacing, which allowed him to put it on and then tighten it if needed. It had no modesty panel in the back and showed his pale skin between the white laces. The boning nipped in his waist, accentuating the natural hourglass of his body and the underbusk pressed his pectorals high and together and stopped just short of his rosy nipples, presenting them for display almost lewdly. The ensemble was topped off by a gown of lace, and not cheap, scratchy lace. The lace Akihito’s peignoir was made with was the finest Chantilly made in France. It was gossamer fine and light as a whisper of air. The oversized kimono sleeves draped over his delicate shoulders and stopped short of his wrists. The soft, intricate lace stopped mid thigh, hiding his garter and corset and tied across the waist with a thin silk ribbon. The look was both demure, virginal and breathtakingly sexual at the same time.

Akihito looked in the mirror and tidied his hair, unconsciously pursing his lips as he arranged the golden tendrils to perfection around his neck and ears. To top it off, he slipped his dainty feet into the pretty heels, the Maribou feathers floated just so, accentuating the pink polish on his toenails. His feet looked impossibly small in the delicate pumps and the tall heels made his long, shapely legs look even longer still. Akihito looked in the mirror, feeling beautiful and exhilarated at the same time, like a bride on her wedding night. A dash of his perfume on his collarbone and wrists topped it off. It was a custom scent, made by one of the last master perfumers in France; Monsieur Fraysse. It was a lovely concoction of lavender, jasmine, rose, Lily of the valley, carnation, cedar and sandalwood, not too feminine, nor too masculine. Asami had it commissioned especially for him. It was light and and accentuated his natural scent without covering it up.

The boy took a deep breath and then opened the door. He walked across the marble floor, each click of his heels bringing him closer to the man who waited for him. His eyes were downcast as he entered the dimly bedroom, but he could smell the scent of the candles and he could hear the hissing intake of breath the other man took when he saw him. He could hear the creak of the leather as Asami leaned forward.

“Ooh, Princess… let me have a look at you.”

The blond moved to stand between his outstretched legs and a large hand extinguished a cigarette before taking hold of Akihito’s. He held his fingers in a dancer’s grip and slowly indicated that Akihito was to turn for him. Akihito twirled in a slow pirouette, feeling the golden eyes devour every last detail hungrily.

Asami’s voice was low, like a growl, “You have never been more beautiful, my precious, stunning, gorgeous baby boy.”

Akihito wasn’t sure but he thought he might… might… have seen the man’s strong fingers tremble as he began to untie the thin ribbon that held his negligee closed. He pushed it open and large hands delved inside to wrap about his trim waist, closing around it and pulled him close. He was not gentle. Akihito swayed in his heels, stumbling forward, the point of his left nipple was immediately engulfed in a hot, hungry mouth. Asami sucked on it hungrily, as if Akihito might truly lactate, if he just pulled hard enough. He gasped at the pleasure-pain and his fingers tangled in jet-black silk, drawing him closer as the other man suckled his breasts, moving one to other, pulling, biting and nibbling on them until they swelled, pink, red and wet, pushed high and together by his bustier. A long tongue ran up the center of the cleft and Akihito laid his head back as a kiss was pressed to his throat. He felt he was being driven mad by the wet heat of that mouth. Every touch sent a steady throb to his cock, still constricted in the golden prison that bulged against the front of his panties.

“Do you trust me?”

Akihito’s fuzzy mind snapped back to the present like a rubber band snapping. Blue eyes looked at him in bewildered confusion, “Of course Daddy!”

A dark eyebrowed arch, “Will you indulge me then, love, just for a bit?”

He nodded with hesitation. Whatever Asami wanted, he would do. The powerful man came to stand behind him, his warm fingers brushing the sides of Akihito’s neck as he moved his hands down and slipped the lace robe off Aki’s shoulders and down his arms. It was cast aside, laid over the arm of the leather chair. Akihito was led to the side of the bed and his naked arms were lifted, both hands placed high on the carved wooden post of the enormous four post bed. He rested his head forward and caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror on the closet door. He looked so small, so thin, so fragile. The man behind him towered powerfully over the little blond in the mirror. He was as dark as the other was light. His arms were thick and muscled and draped possessively about him. He was so much stronger than him. So much. The back of his knuckles caressed the hot skin that showed between the laces of the corset before both hands fell to the bow that held the laces closed. He untied them. A bit of the pressure released. It hadn’t been tied especially tight though, more to simply accentuate Akihito’s tiny waist rather than shaping it.

The man behind him checked the alignment of the stays, making sure the boning was straight up and down and that the slack was removed evenly from the top edge down the waist and to the bottom across his hips, so that when he began pulling on the laces, nothing would pinch.

The boy took one last deep breath in preparation, he didn’t need to be told what to do. He had spent his teens being tightlaced into corsets, to shape his body as it grew. Now was more for play and pleasure and the occasional maintenance.

As his breath left his lungs, he could feel Asami pulling the laces taut. It was a race between his diaphragm and the corset, to see which could force the air from his lungs the fastest. Asami’s strong biceps flexed in the mirror as he pulled hard on the laces, forcing the air from Akihito’s body. The boy gripped the bedpost hard to keep from falling backward. They stopped for a moment.

“Not too much?”

Akihito shook his head. He was unable to speak. His lungs felt completely empty. He took a shallow breath. The corset held his ribs in place, he was unable to get much air in.

“Breathe out.”

His breath escaped in a whimper as the laces were pulled even tighter. The corset was nearly closed in the back, as far cry from the large gap that had been there before. The laces were cinched a little more and then Asami’s strong fingers tied them in a double knot. He tied the knots too tight for Akihito’s little fingers to undo. He would remain in the corset until Asami let him out. His lungs were burning and his head was beginning to spin a bit from the lack of air. He tried to draw a breath and his ribs bit painfully into the boning but he was unable to get any air into his lungs. Blue eyes looked at Asami wide-eyed. He couldn’t breathe…

Strong fingers spun him around as he gasped and pressed him back against the bedpost. Akihito’s lashes fluttered wildly as strong fingers twined into his hair, scattering the pins all over the floor and spilling his long tresses about his shoulders.

Asami growled in his ear, his breath hot on his neck, “Do you feel that Princess? The way your breath stops in your chest, the way you feel like you can’t take another, the burning hunger, the all-consuming need to take that next breath? That fervent, desperate urgency?”

Akihito nodded a bit frantically, shakily as his legs began to tremble. Asami moved into him, pressing him even harder against the bedframe, one hand wrapping around the back of his waist, the other grabbing his throat, fingers pressing under the angle of his jaws.

Akihito just watched him helplessly. With dilated pupils, he watched full lips move almost in slow motion over sharp white canines and his deep voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, “Thats how I feel when I can’t see you and then when you walk into the room. When you move and when you speak, I burn for you. I want you like I want my next breath of air. I crave you like oxygen. I am a man obsessed. Now do you see Princess, what I mean when I say I need you?”

The blond nodded desperately, his hair falling down around his shoulders. Asami stroked the disarray he had caused and then bent his head to place his mouth just over Akihito’s gasping, empty, parted lips, “You don’t baby. But perhaps someday you will. Perhaps someday you will need me the way I need you. Love me the way I love you. You are my life, all I want.. is to be yours.”

Akihito looked at him, but he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move. He was helpless against the force of that golden gaze, completely at Asami’s mercy. The Dragon’s eyes glimmered obsessively. There was madness in them; madness and lust and love. A knife sliced up the back of the corset, releasing the laces and freeing him, just as Asami’s lips covered his, sealing their mouths together. The corset fell to the floor, laying him bare and Akihito’s lungs swelled as the pressure on his ribs was released. Air rushed into him, pulled directly from Asami’s lungs; the air that had given him life now giving breath to Akihito. The heady rush made his eyelids flutter and he swooned into Asami’s arms. His head tumbled back and the last of the pins fell; releasing his long hair. His tiny body was hoisted high into the air and the large man buried his face in the boy’s pale neck as he squeezed him tightly, fiercely, savagely....

“You are mine Princess, only mine, always mine. I will never let you go. From the moment I met you, I loved you and only you….”

-


	8. Flashback

At least he would die a man.

It was a small comfort. Asami Ryuichi had just celebrated his eighteenth birthday, with all the pomp and circumstance befitting the heir of one of the most powerful yakuza clans in history. That had been in August. It was now December, a bitterly cold December, one of the coldest on record. There were many ways he would have chosen to go; fighting and dying with honor, a gun in his hand and a sword at his back….. but this certainly wasn’t one of them.

Asami Ryuichi was freezing to death.

But he wasn’t outside.

He sat in the middle of a large industrial freezer; tied by the hands and feet to a heavy wooden chair. His eyes were cold as the ice that surrounded him; his face expressionless. He had been unconscious when they stripped him of his expensive, merino wool coat and leather gloves. His loafers, socks and shirt had also been removed; leaving him nearly naked. They had piled the warm clothing in a pile next to him, tauntingly, just out of reach; to be placed back on him after he froze to death. He would die without a scratch on him. No injuries, nothing to show it was murder. His fully dressed body be found in an alleyway behind the bar he had been seen in last night. A simple, tragic case of youthful exuberance and the inability to hold one’s liquor. Asami _was_ drunk and he had passed out after a night at the club, but that was due to the GHB that had been placed in his whiskey approximately six hours ago. In another two hours, it would be completely undetectable on a tox screen. That was one of the reasons date rape with GHB was so difficult to prove, unless a urinalysis was performed almost immediately, there would be no evidence of drugging. Odorless, tasteless and hard to prove; GHB was a rapist’s dream come true. But rape wasn’t the reason Asami’s date had put it in his whiskey. Her two younger sisters held tied and terrified by the Takaba clan were the reason she had drugged him and turned his unconscious body over to the rival yakuzas. Neither she nor her sisters would ever be heard from again. There could be no witnesses outside the clan to what was the most hostile act of aggression thus far in the cold war between the Asami and Takaba yakuzas.

A number of the Takaba yakuzas surrounded him in the small walk-in freezer, celebrating their cleverness. Takaba-sama was very satisfied that his plan had been so successful. He had captured his rival’s heir and would now have the satisfaction of killing him without the Asami clan ever knowing of his involvement. He was pleased, but he did not feel as satisfied as he would have wished. The large, eighteen year old with the cold golden eyes looked wholly unconcerned. The elder sneered contemptuously at the young man's foolishness. Perhaps he thought he would be rescued or that he could escape. Over confident. While Asami Ryuichi’s reputation was impressive indeed, he was an extraordinary asset to his clan and had been swaying the odds to their favor, but he wasn't invincible. The fact that he was tied up and stored like meat in their freezer was evidence enough of that.

He was going to die next to the pigs.

He should have felt exhilarated. But he didn't. It infuriated the Kumicho that those golden eyes had no fear in them. If anything, the handsome teenager looked bored by the ordeal. The arrogance! He sat proudly, although they had stripped and degraded him. The clan head had wanted to see him beg for his life; plead and grovel before his enemies. At the very least, he wanted a whimper of discomfort or a flicker of fear. He got nothing. The bastard wasn’t even shivering, his flesh not even goose pimpled. He might have been at the beach for all outward physical appearances. It was like he refused to let them see any evidence of his humanity. That irritated Takaba-sama to no end. Even he was cold in the freezer, they had cranked it down to twenty below. It would not take long for the teen to die and as much as he wanted to see that happen, the clan head was a man who greatly valued his own physical comfort. He pulled his own wool coat a little tighter around his girth and shifted his feet on the floor. His joints were starting to ache a from the bitter cold, his gout flaring up. There was no reason to stay, there was no risk Asami would escape. Even IF he somehow managed to free his bonds, the freezer locked from the outside. No matter how fearless he was, there was no escape.

Takaba-sama spoke sneeringly, mockingly, as if Asami's death wasn't even worth sticking around for, “He won’t die for another hour or two. Let’s have a some sake to warm the blood!”

They left hastily with a few more taunts and insults thrown haphazardly at the prisoner who watched them exit coldly. Takaba-sama left feeling like a coward where he had expected to feel powerful and victorious and it soured his mood even further.

He wondered where his wife was….

Akihito watched the yakuzas file out of the freezer with his thumb in his mouth and his blankie cradled up under his chin. He was hiding in the pantry. Thats where the cookies were. There were no cookies in the freezer, so he wondered what they had been doing in there. It was cold in there, bitterly cold. The little boy knew because his brothers had pushed him in there and locked him in it. By the time his mother had found him, he had been colder than he had ever been in his life. His hands and feet hurt horribly. Luckily, he had his blankie with him to keep him warm. Akihito noticed that a man stayed behind in the freezer. He doubted the man had a blankie and the little boy was terribly worried about that.

He waited until his father was long gone. His father didn’t like him. He didn’t know why, but his mother had told him to try to stay out of his sight. So Akihito did, he made it like a game of hide-and-seek and never let his father see him. He had gotten really good at hiding in all the nooks and crannies of the enormous compound when he heard his heavy footsteps. In fact, he had found the most wonderful spot just a few days ago and was eager to go back to it… but first he had to make sure the man had a blankie to keep him warm. If he didn’t, Akihito intended to lend him his. Not give it to him, of course, but he would let him borrow it... for a little while.

The smart little boy pushed a chair over to the freezer door and climbed up to open the latch. The door popped open easily and then Akihito pushed the chair in between the door and the wall. He remembered how his brothers had tricked him into going inside and how the door had slammed shut behind him, leaving him alone in the dark and the cold. It was the most frightened he had ever been and he didn’t want the door to shut behind him again so he was very careful to prop it open.

He crawled between the legs of the chair and stood up, his blankie trailing on the ground behind him. The man watched him with a strange expression on his face. For a moment, Ryuichi though he was seeing things. He shook his head and closed his eyes, but when he opened them, the angel was still standing there. It was in his head, he was sure of it; he was delusional. But then the little blond said hello in the soft, sweetest voice he had ever heard and he knew he wasn’t dreaming… which meant he was dead.

He was dead and a little blond cherub had come to take him to heaven.

That wasn’t where Asami Ryuichi had thought he was going to go when he died.

Not at all.

But he had seen paintings of angels and he knew thats what he was looking at. It was the only possible explanation. The little boy was the single most exquisite creature he had ever seen. His eyes were the same clear blue as the heavens, his lips were pink, his hair was golden silk. He had the loveliest little face. Ryuichi thought perhaps being dead wasn’t so bad, if beauty like the angels awaited him.

But then the angel did something very strange. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and began to slurp loudly on it. Loud sucking noises filled the room. Ryuichi blinked in astonishment. That was when he noticed his angel had rather dirty feet, his arms were covered in bruises, old and new, and that his shirt was smeared with something that looked suspiciously like chocolate. At least, he hoped it was chocolate.

The little one removed his thumb and spoke shyly, “I brought you a blankie.” He held up a ratty looking blue blanket with unwoven hems.

Ryuichi wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Um. Thank you.”

The blond smiled and trotted over, tucking the blanket around his bare feet. Ryuichi watched him do it but he couldn’t feel anything. They were numb from the cold. The boy stepped back but he frowned. The blanket was big enough for him to wrap up in, but it didn’t do much for the man. It barely covered his feet. He looked cold, his lips were blue and his face was white. Akihito knew how that felt and wondered why the man didn’t get up and leave the cold freezer, now that the door was open. His eyes were golden yellow and Aki thought that was strange. He didn’t know of anyone else with eyes quite like that. His thumb popped back into his mouth in his nervousness, he didn’t take it out even when he spoke again and Ryuichi had a hard time understanding what he was saying.

“Wha don ew go nowh?”

Ryuichi looked at him, “Because I’m tied to the chair.”

That hadn’t occurred to Akihito. His brothers hadn’t tied him up when they locked him in the freezer. He tottered around behind the chair and sure enough, the man’s hands were tied behind his back. His tiny fingers tugged on the knots but the ropes were too big and they were tied too tight for him to undo. He looked up sadly at the man who watched him over his shoulder, “I can’t do it.”

His lower lip trembled. He was starting to get cold now too. He wanted to leave but he wasn’t going to leave the man alone in the freezer.

“Do you see the pile of clothes over there?”

The man’s dark head flicked toward a pile of clothes in the corner. Akihito nodded.

“In the pocket of the coat, there is a knife. Can you bring it to me?”

The little boy hesitated, “Mommy says I’m not supposed to play with knives.”

He nodded, “Yes, your mommy is right, but this is an emergency and sometimes in emergencies we have to do things we wouldn’t do otherwise.”

That made sense to Akihito. This was an emergency. The floor was getting very cold beneath the thin feet of his nappy. He padded over and located the knife and brought it back obediently.

“Push the button on the side but be very careful to keep your fingers down on the handle.”

Akihito did as he was told and gasped as the switchblade zipped out. He had seen his brother do it but it still seemed like magic.

“And now you can cut the ropes and set me free.”

Akihito smiled and padded around behind the chair to begin to cut through the ropes that bound the man's hands. He did his very best but he accidentally pricked the man’s fingers a few times and then the man took over from there, slowly rubbing the razorsharp blade over the ropes until they loosened enough and he was able to slip his hands free. He made quick work of the knots that held his feet bound and then dressed quickly and quietly. Akihito watched with trepidation. With every piece of clothing he put on, he seemed more and more like one of his father’s men, in their sharp black suits. Suddenly he began to worry that he might get in trouble for letting the man go. The man seemed to realized that Akihito growing fearful of him and he picked him up in his arms, bundling his blankie around him to ward off the cold. He kissed him gently on the cheek and Aki smiled, suddenly forgetting his fear. The man was scary looking, but he was nice anyway. Mom always said that it was what was inside that counted.

He spoke quietly as they peered out from the freezer door, “Well, my little cherub, I don’t suppose I can ask you for one more miracle....”

Akihito placed his tiny hand on the man’s face and it seemed to startle him but he didn’t move away. His golden eyes examined Akihito intently. Aki knew what he wanted. He wanted to go away, but he was afraid the men would see him and put him back in the freezer. Akihito knew how he felt. After his brothers tormented him, he always wanted to hide away where they couldn’t find him. He knew of a good spot too, a spot that was big enough for both of them.

“Do you want to hide?”

The man nodded. Akihito nodded back solemnly, “I know the very best place to hide. I found it by myself and its close too, just inside the pantry.”

“The pantry?”

The man seemed to be disappointed in his hiding spot so Akihito elaborated. “MmmHmm. There’s a secret doorway behind the shelves. Right behind the cookies. I didn’t eat all the cookies.” Akihito explained helpfully, “Just some.”

Ryuichi smirked, “Just some huh?”

Akihito nodded, but his big blue eyes were guilty and he started playing with his fingers. Ryuichi felt himself wanting to laugh. It was the strangest thing. He hadn’t laughed in years and here he was, half frozen, still drugged and weak from an assassination attempt, trapped in the middle of his enemy’s compound with no chance of escape and he was laughing. It was absurd. And yet, the boy was just so very sweet, he couldn’t help but smile. He kissed him on impulse, “Alright then, let’s go see your secret doorway.”

They slipped across the kitchen and disappeared quickly into the pantry. Akihito was amazed at how fast the man could move despite his size. He was so big, but he moved so quietly. The secret door was still open because Akihito had just come through it. It was the result of lazy construction. The Takaba compound was a mix of old buildings and new additions that had sprawled without a master plan as the clan grew. When the old building was renovated and merged with the new addition, the builders hadn’t bothered to remove the door at the end of what used to be a hall. They hadn’t bothered to put up drywall and plaster in what was going to be the back of a cupboard so they had just closed the door, wallpapered over it and and built the shelving across in front of it. More money in their pockets for less work. Over the years, as the wallpaper had drooped and sagged, the doorway behind had been revealed. It was a full size doorway, but because of the shelving, there was only about three feet at the bottom that was passable. It was easy for Akihito, but it was a bit more difficult for Ryuichi who was already over six feet tall, even at only eighteen.

He managed, at great expense to his suit and coat, and found himself standing in a crawlspace. The air was damp and smelled of mold. It was thick with dust and Ryuichi could see cobwebs hanging heavy. He thought he saw something scurry in the shadows. It was a passageway between the old section of the building and the new. The older building had irregular walls and rather than try to utilize them, the builder had built a new wall for the side of the addition. He had left a space between the buildings that the new facade had covered over on the ends. Unless one happened upon it, they would never know it existed. Some of the passageway was very tight, less than a foot wide and others opened up into spaces nearly four feet across. It ran the length of the compound and ended at a crumbling pile of red bricks Ryuichi recognized as the back of the brick wall that surrounded the house. He could see daylight through them. There were a number of doors left by lazy construction workers that led into the passageway that used to be the outer doors of the original house. Ryuichi realized with gleam in his eye that if one knew about the crawlspace, they could use it to infiltrate the Takaba compound quickly and efficiently. They would be surrounded before the enemy even knew they were being invaded. This little boy had not only saved his life, but also given him the ultimate trump card over his hated enemy.

On impulse, he kissed the top of his his savior’s little golden head, rubbing his fingers in the silky hair, “What is your name, angel?”

The lovely child bowed politely, “My name is Takaba Akihito.”

Ryuichi was shocked. He knew the Takabas. He knew their round faces and round bellies. He knew their dark, pig-like features and beady little eyes. The two sons were the spitting image of their father. He had heard rumors of a third. An embarrassment. A mixed blood. He knew that the boy standing before was that boy. An unwanted third son; destined to be pinned down under his brothers his whole life. Ryuichi had already noticed the bruises that covered his tiny body and knew the bullying had already begun. And, knowing the two older Takaba boys, the gentle child standing before him didn’t stand a chance. A wave of sentiment washed over him like vertigo…. and then suddenly he realized he was dizzy. He was still hypothermic and the feelings was beginning to return to his hands and feet like a thousand needles stabbing into the soles. He swayed and Akihito grabbed his hand.

“Come, I have a place you can rest!!”

He led the tall teenager through the crawlspace, on and on they walked. When it got extremely narrow, Akihito let go of his hand and Ryuichi felt bereft at the loss of contact.

They stopped at the strangest sight he had ever seen. In one of the places where the wall went inwards there was a nook that was filled with what looked like trash. At a second glance, Ryuichi could see a child’s wonderland. He had taken pink construction paper and covered the wall that he could reach. There was a broken mirror with an ornate frame leaning against the wall and an overturned bucket with a colorful rag draped over it as a table cloth. Two more buckets sat alongside the first which Ryuichi assumed were meant to be chairs. Bit of broken china were laid out neatly on the bucket as if someone were expecting tea. All around the table, propped in various positions were dolls and stuffed animals. They were in terrible condition; most of the dolls had their heads messily taped on. The stuffed animals were all missing eyes. It was quite macabre and Ryuichi could tell by the care with which Akihito moved the stuffed animals out of the way that he wasn’t the one who had damaged them. The boy took obvious pride in his playspace and his blue eyes shined proudly as he invited Ryuichi to take a seat.

The man in the suit perched awkwardly on a bucket before it toppled over backward and he fell on his ass. The dust rose around his splayed legs and he stifled a cough. Akihito rushed over to him, “Im sorry!!”

Concerned tears filled his beautiful blue eyes and Ryuichi was entranced. Akihito was so very beautiful, like a little doll. Ryuichi had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. He was delicate and ethereal; an angel inside a fortress of evil. He smelled like the warm brown sugar of the cookies he had been sneaking before he saved Ryuichi’s life. On impulse, Ryuichi opened his arms to him and the boy climbed into his lap without hesitation. He held him tightly. His body weight was insubstantial and yet he was so warm, Ryuichi could feel his hot little belly like a furnace even through his dress shirt. He was adorable and cuddly and he snuggled right up against his chest so sweetly. So trusting.

Ryuichi never wanted to let go.

He felt possessive of him. Protective. It was a wholly unfamiliar feeling. Ryuichi couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this way about someone before. About anything. His mother had died before he could remember her and his whole life had been surrounded by men. Cold, hard men trained as ruthless killers, drug runners, shady businessmen, loan sharks and criminals. The clan was the only family he had ever known. He knew nothing of children, of softness or love or kindness. Everything, it seemed, that this little angel represented.

“My name is Ryuichi” He said slowly after a while. He didn’t tell him his last name. If the Takaba clan was anything like the Asami yakuza, the name of their enemy would be something they were taught to hate from a very early age. Although somehow he couldn’t quite see Akihito hating anyone.

“Nice to meet you Wyuichi.” Came a soft sweet voice muffled from where the child’s pretty face was pressed into his chest, his little thumb back in his mouth. They were both cold, and the passageway was cold too. Several vents opened into it and there was some steam released but it did little to heat the cold crawlspace. It was a terrible place for a child to play and he couldn't help but wonder what terrors had driven Akihito to come to it.

“Are you cold Ryuichi?”

Ryuichi nodded and Akihito leaned back a bit to look at his eyes. Ryuichi just stared. They were so very blue. He was mesmerized by the innocence he saw in them. He tried to remind himself that the little one was the son of his enemy; the lilly-livered coward who had just tried to kill him. He should snap the Takaba’s son’s neck in retaliation and leave the head on the doorstep. Thats what Ryuichi would have done to anybody else. Vengeance and retaliation. Sending a message that any offense would be met with quick, vicious brutality. That was Ryuichi’s modus operandi and he had been taught it from birth.

But killing Akihito… would be like cutting off his own nose to spite his face. He would sooner cut off his own arm than hurt this darling little boy, no matter who he happened to be unlucky enough to be related to.

Akihito spoke quietly, “Sometimes my mommy put her hands on my tummy to warm them up. You can do it too…. if you want to?”

The little boy lifted his nappy and exposed his round little belly. His skin was peachy pink and soft as silk. It looked irresistible. He wanted desperately to touch him… Ryuichi put his frozen fingers on the boy’s tummy and Akihito squirmed uncomfortably. He would have removed his hands, not willing to cause Akihito any discomfort but suddenly the little one scrunched his body up, curling his little arms around Ryuichi’s big hands and hugging them closer into his hot stomach. Ryuichi knew the boy was cold himself, but he only clutched his hands closer, even as he began to shiver, like he was trying to draw the cold from Ryuichi's fingers, into himself.

It was the purest, most unselfish act he had ever seen. It was the kindest thing anyone had even done for him; the most love he had ever been shown. 

It was as if the light of morning had dawned on Asami's cold, dark heart and it changed everything, in an instant. He knew in that moment, the boy was an angel. And even though he was a demon, he would never, ever let him go. Akihito belonged to him now and nobody was going to take him away. He would protect him, for always. Two cold bodies pressed together, seeking the heat, warmth and comfort of the other. And as the dark teenager cradled the innocent toddler in his lap, stroking his golden hair gently, a plan was forming in his mind.....

-


	9. Bromidrophilia, Mysophilia

He was naked, wearing nothing but his crotchless panties, spread out on the bed like a feast on a table. Asami had removed the garter with his teeth, nibbling and biting the soft skin of his thighs before pulling down and ripping it off his legs. 

Akihito watched, holding still and fighting the urge to pull his leg back as Asami held his small pale foot delicately in his hands like a small animal. He smirked and bent his dark head low; his hot tongue painting a trail up around his shin to his knee. From there, he kissed his way back down and ended at his delicate anklebone. He raised his right leg even higher with his hands while exploring the rest of Akihito's ankle with his lips and tongue. He kissed the tips of his toes and moved to their bases, his dextrous tongue flicking between each individual digit. The boy’s breathing increased in he began to suck his toes, engulfing each on in his hot mouth, sucking them down to the joint. He sucked each one, until they were shiny and glistening with his spit, finally releasing the big toe with a pop. 

All the while Akihito squirmed uncomfortably, his cock swollen and pressing against the sides of the cockcage. He tried not to whimper. He wanted it so bad….

“Do you want me to suck your little boy clit too baby? Run my tongue all over it and take it in my mouth?”

Akihito nodded, biting his lower lip to keep from crying out, his eyes glazed with lust. He knew it would be so sensitive, so sensitive it would almost hurt when he finally touched it… but Daddy would make it feel good. He always did.

Asami smirked but he lifted his hands to his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it until the key that hung around his neck was revealed. He tugged Akihito’s panties down until the cock cage was exposed. Aki could see his pink flesh pressing so tight against the gold bars, almost bulging out between them and he turned his head away in humiliation.

A cool breeze blew across it and he flinched. 

“Uh-uh Princess, you know better. Keep those beautiful baby blues on me darling.”

With red cheeks, Akihito turned his face back down to look at Asami. He shook his head slowly, and then, just to be cruel, he blew air across Akihito’s poor cock again and then tongued his smooth testicles at the base where the gold ring held them tight, pushed up and plump. He lapped at them gently, sending shiver down Akihito’s spine before murmuring with hot breath against them, “Who’s cock is this Akihito?

His temper flared and blue eyes sparkled with anger as he glared at the other man. His prick and testicles were trapped in a merciless golden cage that prevented him from getting an erection and allowed for no outside stimulation at all. The contraption was securely held shut by a small golden padlock and Asami wore the key on a chain around his neck, always. It was pretty fucking clear who’s cock it was. And it wasn’t Akihito’s.

Asami smirked at Akihito’s indignation and prodded him further, “Come on, tell me who this pretty, pretty cock belongs to? Who makes it feel good? Who takes care of it? Who takes care of you precious boy?”

Aki wanted to yell, but he knew he had to be a good boy, or Daddy wouldn’t play with him, so he sighed and stamped down his temper knowing it wouldn’t get him very far, “You do Daddy.”

Golden eyes glowed dangerously, “Say it Princess.”

That tone left no room for disobedience. Akihito knew it well. “My pretty cock belongs to you Daddy, only you. You make it feel good, you take care of it. Please Daddy, won’t you touch your pretty cock? Please Daddy?”

It was an act. But not much of one. Akihito wanted him to take the horrible cock cage off. He wanted it so bad he would have said or done anything to get Asami to take it off of him.

Asami gave one last nuzzle to his plump, constricted ballsack and then slipped the key over his neck, Akihito watched with shallow breaths of anticipation, as he stuck the key in the lock and turned it, slowly. As soon as the pressure was removed from the base of his cock, he nearly came, his testicles clenching so tightly that he could feel the semen trying to rush out of his dick as it immediately filled and engorged with blood, coming erect. The milking had helped but his need to cum was still so intense. Asami’s thumb pressed on the base of his cock and helped him regain control. His hands fisted in the covers and he lay there for a moment, panting. Tears filled his eyes at his lack of restraint, “I-I’m sorry Daddy.”

Asami shook his head gently, “Ssssh my beauty. You did well. Come, let’s pull your panties up and turn over.”

He nodded submissively and let Asami pull the crotchless panties up his thighs and snugged them back into place; his cock covered and bulging against the satin with his testicles and anus lying completely exposed and vulnerable through the slit in the back. He couldn't help but flinch and shudder as the smooth satin was pulled over his throbbing erection. Asami helped him sit up and turned his trembling body over until he lay on his stomach with one hand curled up next to his mouth. Asami arranged the lower half of his body to his pleasure, pressing a bolster pillow under his hips and raising his bottom in the air. He then spread Akihito’s legs wide apart. There were leather straps attached to the bedposts that he sometimes looped around Akihito’s thighs and ankles to help him hold them apart. He could tighten them as he wished, pulling Akihito’s limber legs into splits if he wanted and holding them that way. He pushed his legs far, far apart until the crack of his bottom opened and he could feel the air of the room on his little pucker. Asami didn’t tie his legs though. Which meant Akihito was expected to keep them like this…. Which was almost harder than being tied up.

The bolster had the effect of not only raising his ass in the air and making his testicles dangle between his legs. but it also kept his cock from rubbing on the bed. He could feel the satin covering it, but that was all, and no amount of rocking his hips would allow him the friction he needed to get off. If Asami wanted him to orgasm, he would... but only if Asami allowed it. 

He could feel Asami’s large fingers delve into his backside and press his butt cheeks open wider, until the natural pucker of his hole was exaggerated as it spread. Asami sighed at the sight of the boy's perfect asshole. The skin of his buttocks was pale white and creamy like milk, but about an inch from his hole, the skin began to grow pinker and pinker. The inner ring of his puckered anus was a bright cherry red, contrasting lewdly with his white buttocks. It looked like a little delicious berry between his legs. Asami’s mouth was watering as he leaned down, stuck his tongue out and traced the circle of muscle wetly, leaving it shiny and quivering.

“I love your boycunt, so red against your pale creamy skin. Its so sexy. Would you like me to lick your pretty pussy? Press my tongue inside and eat you out?”

Akihito nodded.

“Then you know what you have to do.”

He did. Pushing himself back on his knees a bit with his face in the mattress, he reached back to hold his ass open for Daddy with his own small hands, spreading the little pink crevice wide apart and exposing the tight bud of muscle between his cheeks even further and presenting himself to Asami, “Please eat my pretty boypussy Daddy.”

Asami groaned in pleasure and he almost felt the bed rumble with the deep, powerful noise. Then Akihito felt his breath on it, hot and moist and then he felt his tongue, wet and firm, rubbing up and down the cleft of his ass. Akihito shivered at the sensation, so powerful and yet so delicate, on his most secret place. Asami focused in and lapped at his tight asshole, wetting it, coaxing the tightly clenched ring to relax and open for him.

The feeling was almost overpowering, he was so, so sensitive back there. Akihito gripped at the sheets and moaned softly as Asami licked persistently. Slowly his asshole responded to him, loosening up and unfurling. He gasped as Asami had made his tongue a rigid spear and was slowly pushing it into his quivering hole. He pressed it as deep as it would go and began to rotate it in Akihito’s ass, flicking his insides with the tip of it. The sensation was overpowering.

"NNngh!" Akihito grunted. "Uggh, no! I’m gonna cum Daddy. Please Daddy, can I? Please?" He groaned and tried to push Asami’s tongue out of his butt. He was going to come if he didn't stop. His cock was stretching the front of the panties, hard and slick and dripping, making a large wet patch on the expensive fabric. 

Asami wasn’t ready for him to come yet. He pulled his tongue out and assessed his Princess’s pouting hole adoringly, "Not yet baby. I want some more. You taste so fucking good.”

Akihito shuddered but he didn’t come. The friction of his panties on his cock was driving him mad and his asshole felt gapingly wide and empty now that Asami had stopped lapping at it. He whimpered in frustration, pressing his bottom up and back unconsciously towards Asami’s mouth and Asami chuckled darkly as he dove back in, thrusting his tongue deep into Akihito's ass and wrapping his lips around the puckered ring of his anus. He simultaneously tongue-fucked and sucked the blond’s perfect little asshole, his vehemence increasing as Akihito moaned louder.

"Agghhh! Ughhh! Ugnnnnnn...Ooooh!" Akihito moaned over the sucking sounds that came from behind him. His arms began to weaken and tremble from the strain off holding his plump buttcheeks apart for Asami and they gave out. His hold slipped and his ass closed on Asami’s face with a loud ‘slap’ against his cheeks. Akihito cried out because now he could feel even more; Asami’s face buried in his ass, his nose nudged the skin above his hole, his tongue wedged inside him, his rough cheeks abrading his tender flesh. It was almost more than he could bear. But Asami kept at it, eating his ass for all he was worth with his wide, dexterous tongue. All Akihito could do was lie there limp and whimper in pleasure.

Under Asami’s skillful ministrations, his hole began to tingle and ache. It felt hot, deep inside him and he craved more; fingers, cock, something to fill his throbbing hole. He wanted to be filled. He felt as if he were about to fly screamingly out of control, his boy-clit completely engorged and throbbing in his panties. Akihito whined, clutching at the bedcovers with his fingers, humping his ass back against Asami’s face, panting, "...oh God, fuck me, fuck me, Daddy, please... Daddy, let me come, please!!!"

Responding to the frantic urgency in his voice, Asami removed his tongue from Akihito’s red, puffy hole and grabbed his cock overtop the satin, palming it hard, squeezing it just once and then ordering him, in a growling, possessive voice, "Cream those pretty panties for Daddy."

Was it because Asami said it... that he needed it...or was it because he needed it … that Asami said it? Regardless, he needed it. He needed those words, whispered against his back, hot and filthy, making him feel so naughty, dirty and delicious, all at the same time. They pushed Akihito right over the edge. He came with a scream, obeying instantly, jerking against Asami’s hand as cum soaked right through his underwear, wetting Asami’s palm as Akihito really did cream his panties, just like a girl.

He flushed in humiliation as Asami rubbed him gently, coaxing a few more drops out. He closed Akihito’s trembling legs and the boy sighed in relief as the painful stretch in his hips was relieved. Asami rolled him back onto his back and then carefully slipped his panties off his long, slender legs. He held the soiled underwear to his nose, inhaling deeply before folding them neatly and placing them on the nightstand. It grossed Akihito out and at the same time fascinated him. Asami had a fetish for his dirty panties. He loved to make Akihito cum in them and then would fold them up, careful not to spill even a drop of his juices and carry them in the breast pocket of his suit the next day. Sometimes he would take them out and sniff the crotch before tucking them back in his pocket. It was their secret. Akihito always knew, no matter how slick, perfect and polished Asami looked in his three piece suits; in the breast pocket, right above his heart, there was a pair of his own sticky, filthy, cum filled panties. Perverted bastard.

Asami moved to kiss away the juices covering Akihito’s thighs and groin. He was gentle and considerate, knowing how exquisitely sensitive the boy got after he orgasmed. Akihito did his best to submit to it and not to squirm as he removed the mess with his lips and his tongue, licking him squeaky clean.

He trailed kisses up the flexing lines of his stomach, nuzzling the faint red marks the corset had left and stopping to worship his nipples. Asami let him rest, keeping himself entertained playing with Akihito’s chest. He pressed his pectorals together, squeezing and mashing them together like they were tits. He nibbled gently on his left nipple while his thumb flicked back and forth over the right one. Akihito could feel himself growing hard again from the stimulation and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Asami smirked, “I love these little buds. So exquisitely sensitive. Rosy and pink. They just beg to be sucked on.”

He grabbed his chest again and Akihito couldn’t help but feel woefully inadequate at the way his flat, non-existent breasts failed to fill Asami’s large hands and his blue eyes grew sad. 

Asami immediately noticed the look on his face,“What is it Princess?”

The feminine endearment made the boy’s face fall even more. Asami knew what was wrong immediately. Old insecurities rearing their ugly head once more. One day he would put them to rest for good. One day, Akihito would believe him. 

“Are you thinking that I wish you had breasts? Are you thinking that I wish you didn’t have this?” Asami ran a finger up the shaft of Akihito’s cock and watched as he shivered. A full lower lip came out in a pout but the beautiful boy turned his head to the side, his blue eyes refusing to meet Asami’s. 

Yes, Asami could see quite clearly what was going on in his baby boy's pretty blond head and he continued, “Do you think, that because I enjoy seeing you in dresses and panties, looking so pretty for me, that I wish you were a girl?”

He got no reaction, Asami moved up his body, caging him between his arms and forcing Akihito to meet his eyes as he asked intently, “Do YOU wish you were a girl?” He held his breath in anticipation of his answer. Because whatever Akihito said…. he would make it happen. Whatever it took, to make him feel happy, beautiful, safe and loved, Asami would do it….

He breathed a sigh of relief when Akihito scowled up at him incredulously, “No, I don’t want to be a girl.”

Asami smiled, “And I don’t want you to be one. I want you to be you. I love YOU Akihito, just the way you are. You are perfect, to me. You always have been.”

His hand moved down to grab between Akihito’s legs, squeezing and massaging his cock until the boy’s back arched and loud moans escaped his lips. He bit down on the lobe of his ear and spoke roughly, “And anyways, thats not your cock Akihito, thats mine. That pretty little boy clit of yours, so perfect and pink and sweet? That belongs to me. Just like every last inch of your beautiful body.” 

Asami’s lips painted the boy’s cheekbone and jawline with hungry kisses as he spoke and then finally he claimed Akihito’s throat with a rough, sucking bite as he pressed the boy down into the mattress, growling “Mine, Princess. You are beautiful, you are perfect and you are ALL MINE. ”

-


	10. Flashback

“Please Oni-can, please? I don’t want to play this game anymore. Please, pleeeeease, let me go!!”

Akihito begged plaintively to be set free. Ryuichi had wrapped him up in his coat and told him to wait for him here, that he would be back soon. And he had waited ever so patiently, warm and comfy inside the darkhaired man’s big, soft coat. But the little boy wanted to go now. He wanted to run away. He wanted his Mommy. His brothers had found his hiding spot and it wasn’t safe anymore. They had taken the coat and his clothes and he was terribly cold. The toddler’s little legs were pinned to the ground with his older brother’s on top of them. They were big, so big. And heavy. The weight of them hurt on top of his own small legs. His shoulders hurt too, from the way his older brother was twisting his arms behind his back. Akihito tried to wiggle, but he couldn’t even do that. 

Takeshi was crouched in front of him, holding a pair of of scissors. They were very large and old. They didn’t have the pretty colored handles Akihito’s own tiny scissors did. He liked his scissors, they were painted like a fish and he could wiggle them open and closed and make the funny fishy eat paper. They were friendly scissors that helped him make all sorts of fun shapes out of his construction paper. The scissors Takeshi was holding did not look friendly. They were big and metal, but the mouth wasn’t silver or shiny. The scissors weren’t sharp. They were old and rusty. It looked like the mouth of those scissors would have to gnaw on the paper. Rip it, not cut it clean and smooth. He wriggled, trying to get away from Takeo’s strong grip but he couldn’t. He felt like one of the bugs the older boys like to pin down on the ground and take apart. He didn’t want them to take him apart. He kicked his legs again, trying desperately to escape.

Takeshi frowned over the boy head, “Hold him still Takeo!”

“I’m trying but he keeps squirming.”

The older boy in back pinned him down brutally, so hard that Akihito screamed in pain. The black haired boy in front of him pushed Akihito’s knees further apart. He had already taken off his pants and thrown them on the floor of the filthy crawlspace. Akihito had been missing for hours at a time lately and Takeshi knew he had been hiding from them. They had found the secret door and the boy’s hiding place and now he would be punished for trying to run away from them. It was the perfect hiding spot, and the perfect place for them to play with Akihito away from the watchful eye of his mother. Takeshi’s black eyes gleamed cruelly at the sight of the little boy’s delicate privates; his small pink nub and his tiny ballsack. They had barely begun to develop. He pinched the tender skin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it away from Akihito’s groin. He brought the scissors up beneath them, trying to trap the skin between the rusty blades before he snapped them shut.

At the last moment, Akihito jerked his hips and Takeshi lost hold of the skin. He glared at Takeo and barked, “Spread his legs.”

The larger boy struggled with the toddler who was fighting now, twisting and fighting just as hard as his little body could to get away. His clear blue eyes were wide and filled with terror. Takeshi loved watching those eyes fill with pain and fear. He loved putting it there. He loved playing with his little baby brother; the way he screamed and cried and begged. It was like singing, the most beautiful music to Takeshi’s ears. And Akihito always suffered so beautifully for him. 

Takeshi loved his pain, him and his mother’s. He loved watched her scream and cry while his father raped her in her back hole. Her beautiful face contorted with her screams like a crumpled paper mask. Takeshi like to creep in the bedroom and watch and stroke himself. Seeing her so powerless turned him on like nothing else did. Except for Akihito. He was powerless too. Takeshi wanted to hurt him the way his father hurt his mother. Someday. Not today. Today he had something else in mind. To make him more similar to his mother before he put his penis in Akihito’s hole and ripped him open from the inside.

He wanted to play with him, just a little longer, before the screams started. He laid the scissors down.

Takeo scowled at him and hissed, “Just DO it already.”

Takeshi frowned back. His older brother was always in such a hurry to get to the blood. So eager. He had no sense of finesse. It was rude to waste such a fine, versatile toy by only playing with it one way. There were so many ways to make a human being suffer. Takeshi liked to crawl inside their heads and make them scream in there first. Then and only then, had he truly won. It took a special skill to torture someone without even touching them. Takeo didn’t understand that. That was one way he was better than his older brother. One of many ways. Takeshi felt he should have been first. He should have been born the heir. One day he would remedy that flaw in the universe. But not today. One flaw at a time.

He smiled at his baby brother, “Akihito, don’t you want to be pretty?”

The blond stilled and looked up at him in confusion. Takeshi was struck by how very pretty the little boy was already. He should have been a girl. Then his attraction to Akihito wouldn’t be so strange and unwanted. He really should have been a girl. Takeshi was going to remedy that flaw today. He reached out and brushed his fingers against his baby brother’s soft blond hair.

“I think you are very pretty Akihito. But you could be prettier, you know.”

Akihito cocked his head to the side in confusion. Takeshi interpreted that as a question and elaborated, “Like your mother. She is very beautiful don’t you think?”

The little boy nodded his head. His mother was the most beautiful woman in the world and Takeshi knew Akihito wanted to be just like her. He had him now. Takeshi grinned and withdrew a photograph from his pocket. He had found it in his father’s desk. It was a picture of her, naked, wearing pearls and heels. Her legs were spread wide and the shaved pink gash between them was clearly visible. He knew Akihito had never seen his mother naked. He had no idea about the difference between male and female bodies. He had no concept that there even was a difference. Until now. 

“You want to be just like your mother, don’t you?”

Akihito nodded again, slower this time, as if he wasn’t sure if that were the right answer. But Akihito didn’t lie. The boy never lied. One more reason he should be a girl, not a boy.

“But you can’t be like her. Do you know why?”

The little boy shook his head again. Takeshi could see the curiosity in his eyes and he smiled indulgently and then pointed at his penis.

“Because of that.”

Akihito looked down at his privates and then up at Takeshi and asked, “What- whats wrong with it?”

Takeshi sighed heavily, “Its ugly. Its not supposed to be there. Your mother doesn’t have that. See?”

He smoothed the picture out in front of Akihito and pointed to his mother’s smooth, hairless vagina. The little boy started in surprise. He sat completely still, his eyes fixed on what was between his mother’s spread legs. Takeshi was glowing inside. He was so close to victory; he could smell it.

Akihito looked back down at his own lumpy privates, “Why aren’t mine like hers?”

His older brother shook his head sadly, “I don’t know. There’s something wrong with you.”

Tears welled up in the little boy’s pretty eyes. Tears of shame and embarrassment and hurt. Tears that made him feel powerful. Takeshi began to get hard in his pants. Yeesssss. There it was. Thats what he wanted. 

Now, to make it rain.

He looked down on his baby brother meaningfully and spoke authoritatively down at him, like his father did, “Its very ugly Akihito.. what you have growing there. You aren’t supposed to have one. And as long as its there, you won’t ever be pretty. You won’t ever be like your mother. Thats why Father doesn’t like you. But Takeo and I are going to help you. We are going to get rid of it for you. Its going to hurt a little, but you have to hold still for us. You have to be a good boy Akihito, can you do that?”

Tears poured down his face but he nodded. He wanted so desperately to be loved by his father. Takeo spread his legs wide and pinned them down again. He tightened his grip on the boy’s arms and Takeshi knew it must hurt but Akihito didn’t complain and he didn’t move when his brother grasped his penis and his balls and pulled, stretching them tautly away from his pelvis. The skin was so velvety soft between his fingers. It was a bit of a shame because really, Akihito had the prettiest, teeniest penis Takeshi had ever seen. But still, he’d be prettier without it.

Takeshi lifted the scissors and spread the rusty blades wide between Akihito’s soft inner thighs. His eyes met Takeo’s and his older brother nodded and tightened his grip on the boy’s arms and legs. It was probably going to take multiple cuts to sever Akihito’s cock and balls completely. It was going to hurt. A lot. He was going to have to hack and hack and hack at them with the dull scissors and if the boy struggled too much… well, he might just cut something else. Something more important. Takeshi’s eyes glimmered at the possibility of his first kill. He felt thrilled, elated and aroused. Takeshi licked his lips, savoring the fear in Akihito’s eyes; the fear and the shame and the self-doubt. He had put it there. Takeshi had never felt more powerful. He had never felt more alive. He wondered if he might cum just from listening to the little boy scream. He adjusted the front of his pants in anticipation of the pleasure.

It was the last thing Takaba Takeshi ever did.

‘FWITT- FWITT’

Like a kiss to wake a princess, Ryuichi put Akihito’s brothers to sleep. Two shots perfectly executed. One sideways through the base of Takeshi’s spine, neatly severing his brainstem, and the other through Takeo’s temple. Takeshi fell to the side, like a broken marionette, it looked as if he had fallen asleep, but Takeo’s brains splattered all over the wall. He rushed forward quietly and grabbed the baby up in his arms just as the child was turning around to see what happened to his older brother. Ryuichi blocked the view with his hands. Hopefully, the little boy would just thinking they were sleeping, but if he saw the blood, there was bound to be questions.

He held Akihito’s chin, cupping his hands around his face and looked into his eyes, “Are you alright baby?”

Aki nodded, his lips trembling. He could see the remnants of tears in those lovely eyes. The little boy was naked from the waist down and shivering. Ryuichi knew what had been about to happen as soon as he entered the secret passageway. The knowledge of what might have happened had he been but a few moments later chilled him to the bone…. But now he needed to see what Akihito understood about what his brothers had been going to do to him. He smiled gently and asked coaxingly, as if he didn’t already know, “What happened baby? Where are your pants?”

Long lashes immediately covered entrancing blue eyes as Akihito looked down in shame. Ryuichi frowned at that. Shame? What did he have to be ashamed of? He cupped his tiny chin and tipped it back up, “Why look away? Look into my eyes Akihito.”

His lashes fluttered up and the beautiful boy began to cry as soon as their eyes met, “I’m uuuugly!!! There’s something wrong with me.”

Ryuichi knew exactly who had told him that and wished he could kill them again. He wrapped in his coat and walked around the bend in the passage. He stopped once they were out of sight of the blood and bodies. He crouched down, carefully adjusting the little one until he was perched sideways in his lap. His strong arms came up around Akihito and held him gently, rocking him slowly as he cried.

After a long while he spoke again, “What did your brothers say to you? What did they say was wrong with you?”

The beautiful little boy slowly parted his legs and pointed dejectedly to his teeny cock and the little blushing swell of his testicles, “Those. They are ugly and lumpy and they aren’t supposed to be there. Takeshi says I can’t be beautiful like my mommy because she doesn’t have them.”

He blinked up at Ryuichi with a crestfallen expression on his lovely face. Ah. So that was it.

Ryuichi held his perfect little face in his hands, “Akihito you are a boy. Your mom is a girl. Your brothers were just being mean to you. You are supposed to have them and you are beautiful. And these…” He picked the boy up by the waist and kissed his little nub and rubbed his cheek on his soft belly until the boy was laughing and giggling and squirming. “These the most beautiful little bits I’ve ever seen in my life. They are perfect Aki, just like you and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Akihito smiled and glowed with pleasure, shrugging his little shoulders in happiness. But then he frowned again. “Ryuichi? Takeshi was always saying that I should have been a girl. He said that I was a sissy. Thats there was something wrong with me, because I like pink and I like dolls. Oh! My dolls….”

Pieces were beginning to fit together now and Ryuichi was beginning to understand.

Blue eyes filled with tears again and Akihito buried his face in his chest and started wailing louder than ever. Ryuichi noticed that the secret passageway that had once been Akihito’s refuge was now filled with bits and pieces of his precious dolls and stuffed animals. His brothers had obviously been very busy before they decided to tear his little angel apart too. He would buy him more dolls. Better dolls. Prettier dolls. Every doll ever made. And Ryuichi would never let anyone make Akihito feel ashamed of being who he was, ever again.

“Akihito, listen to me. Shhh baby. Shhhh. Listen, honey, listen.”

It took long moments of rubbing his trembling back before he was calm enough to hear anything Ryuichi had to say but the teen was endlessly patient with the toddler. Finally his sobs quieted and Ryuichi spoke again, “Akihito, please believe me when I say, there is nothing wrong with you. Everyone is different. We all like different things. So what if you like pink the best? Who cares? How boring would it be if everyone liked the same color? Isn’t it fun to color with lots of different colors when you make a picture?”

Akihito nodded. He liked to color with every color of the rainbow. Sometimes all at once. Ryuichi could see he was starting to understand and so he continued, “Well thats what God does when he makes people. He likes to make all different kinds. And some boys like pink and they like to play with dolls. And some girls like blue and they like to play with toy cars. And thats ok. Its all ok. You don’t have to be anybody other than who you are, because I think you are perfect, just the way you are and I love you.”

Blue eyes opened wide in surprise, “You- you do?”

Ryuichi nodded seriously, “I do. So much so, I was hoping you might come live with me. I have a room all ready for you, right next to mine. I have a bed just the right size for you. There’s books and crayons and dolls and bears… and hey! Whats this? It looks like one came along for the ride!”

The teenager pulled a small, soft plush bear from his suitpocket and walked it across his knee towards Akihito. The little boy squealed gleefully at the sight and grabbed it with both hands. All of the boy’s other plushies were old and stained, rescued from the trash and the rummage heap. He had never seen a toy so beautiful. The bear was soft and clean and had big black eyes and a happy smiling face. There was a sparkly bow tied around its neck. Akihito just stared in wonder at it. He was enraptured. Ryuichi smiled at his reaction, “Thats the baby bear. There’s a momma bear and a pappa bear back home in your room. The pappa bear is big enough for a little boy your size to sit in his lap.”

The little one’s eyes went completely round like marbles at the mention of a teddy bear big enough that he could sit in its lap. His mind was blown. Ryuichi smirked.

“Can I go there? Now?” He asked eagerly.

Ryuichi nodded, “Yes, we are going to go there today. I had a few loose ends to tie up before I could take you home for good, but we are going today and you will never have to come back here again.”

Ryuichi helped Akihito back into his torn shirt and shorts. He couldn’t find his shoes. No matter, he didn’t have far to go. “Akihito, I want you to go find your mother and stay in your room. No matter what happens, you stay in your room. And I want you to promise me that you will keep your new friend with you. If you put him down, even for a moment, he might get left behind and never see his mommy or daddy again. Wouldn’t that be sad?”

Akihito nodded and clutched the bear tightly.

Ryuichi looked at him sternly, “Promise me you won’t let go of your bear, no matter what.”

He nodded solemnly, “I promise Ryuichi.”

Ryuichi brushed a kiss across that smooth cheek and turned him towards the door, patting him gently on the bottom, “Go on now, angel, I’ll come get you soon and we’ll go see the other bears ok?”

“Ok Ryuichi!”

Akihito tottered off, making his way carefully out the secret door and into the main house, his blue eyes peeking back at Ryuichi who waved comfortingly at him. He grinned and ran off with his new teddy bear in tow. Ryuichi closed the door behind him and immediately pressed the earbud in his ear, speaking to the other men connected to him with headsets.

“Passage is clear, send in Delta Team. Alpha and Beta teams maintain current positions.”

Men began to pour into the narrow passageway behind him. They were dressed in black, covered in flak gear and holding assault rifles. Ryuichi intended to do this without one single casualty on their side. Quick and easy, he was going to clean house. He had seen the cuts and bruises that covered his boy. The abuse he was suffering was obvious. He would erase everyone who had ever laid a hand on the boy. Everyone. He had thought that leaving the boy for a few more hours would do no harm, but obviously he had underestimated the gravity of Akihito’s situation. Ryuichi had left him to go and arrange the strike on the Takaba compound, armed with the knowledge of the secret back entrance. He knew the moment Takaba-sama discovered him missing, instead of dead, the compound would go on full lock down, they would be expecting retribution from the Asamis. They wouldn’t be expecting it this soon however. It had only been hours since Ryuichi escaped. Takaba sama would have all of his men at the compound, fortifying their defenses and preparing for all out yakuza warfare. 

Little did they know, they had already been invaded.

He looked down at the screen in his hand. It was a GPS tracker, tied to the coordinates of the stuffed bear he had given Akihito. It showed the boy in a room on the East wing of the compound. It was no longer moving. In the initial sweep, he would send his best men to secure the area and keep him safe during the attack.

Ryuichi flicked his eyes to his right hand man, “The documents?”

Kirishima pressed his glasses higher and motioned to a briefcase, “Prepared and ready to sign. The notary was very compliant.”

Ryuichi smirked. A few million yen tended to do that. He hoped he enjoyed his newfound riches. The corrupt official only had about a week left to live, just long enough to file the phony, backdated paperwork. Everything was falling into place. Within hours, he would have everything he wanted; the Takaba clan would lay dead at his feet and Akihito would belong to him.

-


	11. Sitophilia, Amaurophilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speculum play and shit begins to get weird for a couple of chapters. I've tagged the crap out of this mess so the decision to read is on you! Don't like, don't read. Everybody else? Join me on the bullet train to hell. Its warm and there's snacks.

Asami was propped up against a mound of pillows in front of the headboard. Akihito lay in his arms, half on top of him, his head on Asami’s chest. It reminded him of when he was little. When he would climb into bed with him, his little hands reaching out needfully, his knobby knees crawling closer and closer, craving affection and the warmth and safety of his arms. Akihito was so easy as a child. His needs so simple.

Although, in many ways, anticipating Akihito’s needs is still simple.

He smiled as Akihito’s pretty pink mouth opened in eager anticipation of another grape and he popped it in the little round hole, watching almost hypnotized as full, rosy pink lips close sensuously over it.

After an intense orgasm like the one the boy just experienced, he often got a little shaky and trembly. And then he gets tired and sleepy and rather cranky. Akihito’s high metabolism burns through the sugar in his blood quickly and its important to replace it. Asami knows this, but he still limits sweets. Akihito would eat candy and cookies and pocky by the pound if he allowed it. But the constant sugar rushes and crashes make his already prickly boy; moody and miserable. And so sweets are saved for special occasions, just like when he was a child. Fruits though, he is allowed as much as he likes, the vitamins make him feel good and the sugars are released much slower, making him feel more energetic, without the spikes that make him irritable.

He feeds him with sliced peaches, letting him suck the juices from his fingers. Ripe strawberries, ready to burst, he rubs the red juices on Akihito’s lips staining them bright red before he allows that eager mouth to consume them. The grapes he saves for last. Those are Akihito’s favorite. He loves the way they explode in his mouth, pinched between his sharp white teeth until the skin pops and the sweet flavor overflows. In between each bite, he allowed small sips of expensive champagne. The sweet bubbly drink goes straight to the boy’s head, making him feel floaty and happy. This is Asami’s cure-all for subdrop, not that Akihito knows what that is. And the champagne also has the added benefit of loosening Akihito’s inhibitions and making him more docile. Asami is not above plying his prickly boy with alcohol to get what he wants. And tonight he wants his Princess very pliable...

He alternates small sips with bites of fruit until Akihito is feeling relaxed and happy once more. Asami himself does not drink the champagne. It is too sweet for his tastes… he prefers a different vintage...something darker.

Watching Akihito eat is always intensely arousing for Asami. The boy is so sensual, he takes his pleasure so openly; the way he relishes every texture, every taste. His pretty lashes sweep closed in his enjoyment and he sometimes moans in ecstasy, his pink cheeks bulging, his lovely lips moving hypnotically, his pink little tongue flicking out. He loves the way the boy gets shy when he feeds him, the way he carefully, daintily takes the fruit from Asami’s fingers, the heat of his mouth teasing Asami mercilessly. 

Finally, when he can stand no more, he set aside the champagne flute, even though it was still half full, and put the tray of fruit away. Akihito pouted adorably. 

Asami smirked at that pretty little pout but he also knows that when the boy gets too full or too drunk, he can get quite lazy and cranky. 

Its all a balancing act with his Princess, but Asami has been on the high wire a long, long time. He hasn’t fallen yet.

He rolled the beautiful blond beneath him, pressing him down into the soft mattress and nuzzled the fine, delicate skin of his neck, where his pulse beat steadily. It was getting more and more rapid. The sugar was waking him up, the kisses arousing him. He would be ready for more soon. And Asami had so much more he wanted to give him. 

He grabbed the soft velvety flesh between Akihito’s legs and began to rub him insistently, coaxing his shy arousal along, chastising him gently, “Pretty, greedy boy. Eating all the fruit, not offering me a single bite….”

Akihito’s eyes flashed open, his cheeks blushing in embarrassment, “I’m sorry Daddy. There still grapes left, I can feed you.”

Nimble limbs gracefully rolled to his knees facing Asami and a trim waist twisted to reach the fruit. He lifted the bunch of grapes from the tray and held them out carefully in supplication. Asami smiled at his concern, his eagerness to please. For all his bluster and bravado, he is, at his core, wholly unselfish and ever concerned about the feelings of those around him. Its why Asami can’t help spoiling him so. There is an innocent selflessness and generosity of spirit in Akihito that contrasts endlessly with his hedonistic side; the side of him that relishes in all that Asami gives him, soaking up the pleasure and debauchery like a sponge and crying for more. He loves both sides of him, but he can’t resist teasing him a little either. Had he really wanted grapes, he would have eaten some. He could care less about the grapes, he just wants Akihito to feed him.

Slender fingers gently pulled one of the plump round fruits from the vine and held it up hopefully to Asami’s lips. They quirked in reaction. Golden eyes sparkled in amusement.

“Now, you know better don’t you Princess? How I like you to feed me?”

Pink cheeks flushed cherry red and Akihito put the grapes down in his lap rather unenthusiastically. Asami wanted to burst out laughing but he held back. 

A full lower lip jutted out as Akihito replied, “Yes Daddy.”

“There’s my good boy. Roll over, precious, and put your head in your arms.”

Akihito did it, but slowly, reluctantly….. Asami popped him on the side of his buttocks to speed him up, leaving a small pink mark on the side of his plump round buttcheek. Blue eyes glared indignantly at him. 

He looked sternly back, “There’s always more where that came from.”

The warning did the trick. The stubborn, rebellious expression immediately faded and he apologized sweetly and humbly, lowering his lashes adorably. Asami smiled. Sometimes Akihito needed punishment. He had a sweet little masochistic side that needed to be indulged sometimes too. But that didn’t seem to be what Akihito wanted tonight and to tell the truth, Asami wasn’t much interested either. Tonight he just wanted to pamper him, pleasure him and make him cum until he didn’t even know his own name.

Akihito gulped hard, trying to swallow his nerves as he waited for Asami to act. He knew what was coming. It was filthy and dirty and disgusting…. and it turned him on so much he thought his cock would explode just thinking about it. Asami liked to eat the grapes out of his bottom. He would press them in one by one and then Akihito would push them back out into his mouth as he sucked and licked at Akihito’s stuffed hole. Akihito usually came like a freight train from it, without Asami even touching his cock. He would have been embarrassed, but years of experience had taught him that it was worthless. Asami would do as he wished, he might as well enjoy it. Asami knew he liked it anyway. He knew everything, perverted bastard though he was.

Asami spread his legs wide apart, bent at the knees and pulled his cock down between them, playing with it but for a moment before he moved away. Akihito could feel his weight shift off the bed but he kept his head on his folded arms like he had been told.

Asami came back a few moments later and dropped a silken blindfold across his eyes, tying it gently behind his head. It enveloped him in darkness. It aroused him, made him feel even more at Asami’s mercy than he already was. He could do anything he wanted and Akihito wouldn’t see it coming. Asami didn’t use the blindfold very often, but when he did, it meant he was going to do something that he didn’t want Akihito to see until it was too late…. 

He inhaled sharply at the cold, hard object that pressed against his still sensitized back hole. He was expecting the cold little grapes or Asami’s fingers, warm, but still hard. Flesh on flesh. Whatever this strange thing is, its not a toy he is familiar with. Its not metal, but the plastic is much harder than other toys and its cold. The tip was conical and small, nothing like somewhat bulbous dildos and vibrators Asami occasionally like to tease him with. It slipped into him easily, deeply and then slowly began to open him up as it grew wider. 

The boy began to tense up in alarm, clenching unconsciously, wondering what the thing was, wishing he could see it. This was new, it was unfamiliar and he felt frightened. “Daddy?”

A deep comforting voice came back to him, “Do you trust me Princess?”

It wasn’t a question. It was an anchor. A promise that never failed to help Akihito feel safe and secure. It was a reminder to Akihito that yes, he trusted him, completely.

His entire body relaxed as he answered, “Yes Daddy.”

Asami grunted in pleasure and Akihito felt himself glow inside. He sighed in pleasure and the cold, hard thing slid into him even further. It was deep, very deep, but thin so he wasn’t too worried. Akihito wondered what it was for. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel very good either. It was just… there. 

Suddenly he heard a ‘Click’ and the thing inside him widened, spreading his asshole open from the inside out. He gasped at the sudden rush of cool air entering him, blowing against the exquisitely sensitive lining of his rectum. It was a wholly unfamiliar feeling. Whatever was in him… was opening him, but not filling him. He pulled his knees together just a bit defensively.

“No Akihito, spread those legs for me, let me see you. I want to see everything….”

Akihito shifted his knees a little wider apart and then he heard another ‘Click’. The thing inside him was getting larger. He could feel himself instinctively clenching on it, trying to force it out. Asami had to push on the end to keep it snug inside him, but his rectum continued to struggle to expel whatever it was that was stuck inside him.

Asami rubbed his back gently, “Relax baby. We still have a long way to go.”

What did that mean? He whimpered in fear, his heart racing in his chest, but he did his best to obey. 

Another ‘Click’ and he felt the ring of his anus spread even wider and even the soft, elastic walls inside him were expanded forcefully. He arched his ass up, shifting on his knees, trying to get into a more comfortable position. It hurt, it wasn’t like any of the other toys Daddy like to fill him with. Whatever this was, felt almost bigger at the end in his belly than what was stretching his tight hole. It was cold and merciless. 

Another ‘Click’ and he cried out, “No Daddy, no!! Its too big!” 

It felt terrible, the pressure building as his delicate insides were forced open, his asshole spread wider and wider by the cruel instrument.

“Its not too big sweetheart, you have taken Daddy’s cock and thats much bigger. This just feels different, thats all. You have to relax.”

Akihito sobbed. Daddy’s cock was warm and throbbing and heavy inside him.The weight was comforting. Whatever this was was cold and unnaturally hard. It held him open, but didn’t fill him like he liked. It was just mercilessly contorting his asshole by sheer force. Another ‘Click’.

“No more Daddy, please, please, please!”

Akihito began panting as he felt his elastic hole was forced to stretch even wider. The skin was stretched taut, he felt like a rubber band about to pop. But Asami ignored him and the sides of the thing expanded with yet another cruel ‘Click’, pushing relentlessly against his tender anal walls, forcing them even wider apart. At this point his sphincter was spread so wide, it couldn’t contract at all. Any attempt caused spasms of pain to shoot down his spine, but as long as he relaxed against it, it didn’t hurt so bad. 

His asshole felt like a giant gaping hole and he suddenly realized that Asami could probably see inside him. All of his pink insides were on display, the way his hole was spread open. He knew those golden eyes could now see intimately into his body, private places where no one should be allowed to look.

Akihito flushed in humiliation where he lay on his stomach, blindfolded, vulnerable and helpless while Asami could see everything; him, facedown on the bed, his legs wide apart, his cock and testicles hanging between them with his pink insides spread open for Asami’s inspection. He cringed when he felt Asami blow inside him, his hot breath on his most sacred of places…. And yet, be revealed in such a way, having his guts bared, knowing that Asami was looking inside his very bowels… thrilled him. He wanted to hide it from Asami but his cock was already hard between his legs, poker hard and oozing pre-cum. Asami knew this filthy act was turning him on. 

Akihito could hear the infuriating smirk in his voice, "Do you like being so exposed, my lewd little boy, your asshole spread open so your Daddy can see everything inside of you?"

He shook his head in vehement denial, still in shock from what was happening. Suddenly Akihito heard another tiny ‘click’ and felt heat on the tender, exposed flesh inside him. He realized it was a flashlight, lighting him up so Asami could see even deeper inside his body. Akihito moaned and hid his face in the pillows, even as his throbbing cock twitched between his thighs. For a few minutes, there was silence. All Akihito could hear was the sound of Asami’s heavy breathing. Akihito waited in anticipation. Was it ugly? There inside him, was it ugly or dirty? He was clean. He was sure of it. The boy started to fear Asami was disgusted or disappointed with what he saw inside him. But then, he felt a long finger stroke inside him, gently touching the tender skin inside him. It felt so strange he couldn’t help but shiver.

It caused the red, shiny skin to ripple and contract around the clear speculum that was holding him spread open for Asami’s viewing pleasure. Asami was enraptured by the sight. He had always wanted to see the delicate, velvety insides of his boy. He knew it would be beautiful. But this was beyond his wildest expectations. The ring of his anus was stretched so tightly around the clear wings of the plastic speculum, that it had turned pale pink. His bowels were a bright shiny red, contrasting obscenely with the pale white of his plump, spread buttcheeks. In his gaping cavern, he could see the tender little rings of muscles he adored so endlessly, occasionally twitching and convulsing, created a gorgeous tunnel of delicate flesh Asami wanted to explore anew. He blew some hot air up inside, just to see them twitch again. Akihito moaned in discomfort.. Asami tickled him then, stroking the tip of his finger down the front of his rectum, feeling the soft velvet of his yawning insides. He used the penlight once more, looking for something he had always wanted to see…. there it was. A small knot of tissues, a cute little bump, Akihito’s lovely little G-spot. He knew it was exquisitely sensitive even under normal circumstances… but like this? With his gorgeous asshole spread helplessly wide and vulnerable to anything Asami might think to do to it.... Delicious.

Akihito was panting now, in fear and arousal and shame, little tears starting to run down his face beneath the blindfold, “Daddy stop. Please, don’t look at me, not there… please don’t look….”

A pale hand reached back to cover himself and Asami smack the top of it gently, like a naughty child reaching for something he shouldn't. He placed a gentle kiss to Akihito’s trembling white buttocks, stretched so wide by the cruel speculum and palmed his own cock that felt like it might explode any moment.

Asami hummed in pleasure, “You should see how pretty you look inside. So pretty angel. So smooth, so inviting, so pink and shiny and delicate. So perfect, just like the rest of you. God, baby, you’re so beautiful, inside and out. Every part of you is mine to see, to touch. There is nothing off limits to your Daddy, sweetling. You’ll keep no secrets from me, not now, not ever.”

-


	12. Flashback

The second wife heard the gunshots, the heavy footsteps of men running and her husband barking orders. They were under attack. By who she didn’t know, but one thing she did know was that she and Akihito were on their own.

No foot soldiers would be spared to protect the wife Takaba-sama wanted dead and the son he never wanted at all.

She turned up the radio loud and set Akihito to dancing, to distract him and drown out the noise while she packed. The last thing she need was for him to become frightened. When he became frightened and hid and was sometimes virtually impossible to get him out of his hiding spots. But he certainly had good reason for that. The little boy, used to be be shushed and kept out of side and mind, was delighted to finally be allowed to make all the racket he wanted. He whooped and laughed and jumped on the bed to the rhythm of the beat. His mother smiled and laughed and pretended it was all a game as she packed a small valise of the barest necessities. Her jewelry was in the bottom of it; all of the bracelets and rings and necklaces she had been given by the gangster she called husband. She would never have considered wearing them, not now that she knew how filthy the money was that had bought them. They would have crawled on her skin like insects. But she wasn’t too proud to pawn them. They would buy her a new life. Her and Akihito.

She dressed him warmly and put on her coat and a pair of her most sensible pumps. Never again would she need crystal stilettos or jewelled slingbacks. What she needed now…. was to run.

Wide blue eyes peeked through the crack of the door. She saw no one. She tightened her grip on Akihito’s hand and pushed it wider preparing to make a run for it. She gasped as a man in a black suit moved to stand in front of her, blocking her exit.

“Excuse me Onee-san, but you must stay in your room. It is for your own safety.”

He bowed low and then shut the door, slowly but firmly in her face.

She took a deep breath. It wasn’t one of her husband’s men. For one, he was too nicely dressed. His manners were too good. He had addressed her as ‘older sister’. That was a common name the yakuza used to address the boss’s mistress respectfully. But Takaba-sama’s men had not addressed her respectfully in years. Since before Akihito had been born.

That meant whoever was attacking the Takaba’s had placed a man outside her door to keep her and Akihito trapped in their room. Which meant someone was coming to kill them soon. When rival gangs attacked one another, they did not leave survivors. Some of the women, perhaps, the young girls, many yakuzas had no stomach for killing helpless females. But the boys? It didn’t matter how young they were or how helpless. They never left a male survivor and certainly not the son of a boss. Boys grew into men; men with dreams vengeance and retribution and a sense of honor to restore. Leaving boys alive meant blood feuds later. Too much trouble, too much watching over one’s shoulder. It was much, much easier to simply kill them young and not let them grow into vengeful adults.

Her hands trembled as she scrabbled her fingernails nervously against the expensive leather handle of her suitcase. Her heart was pounding in her chest and aching with the desire to protect her son.

How to protect her son? How to keep her precious Akihito from dying at the hands of ruthless gangsters; yakuzas without souls or hearts bent on destroying the Takabas completely?

Perhaps she could reason with them. Show them how gentle her son was, how sweet…. how weak. He was weak and feminine and sweet. Perhaps she could show them those things and they would Akihito as his brothers saw him… as his father saw him…. and let him live. Perhaps. Perhaps….

Perhaps her answer lay in the past. When she was a girl on school, she had always found the story of Carthage to be incredibly tragic. She remembered the history lesson because of the tears it made her shed. As the Romans had fought to expand their empire, they had struggled with the Phoenicians and experienced a number of humiliating defeats at their hands. Three wars were fought and in the last, the wealthy port city of Carthage had fallen. The city was critical to the Phoenicians ability to wage war, not only because of its strategic positioning, but also because of the money that flowed in through trade routes. To prevent their opponents from rising yet again, the Romans had burned the city to the ground. What was not burned to ashes was buried. Every building was destroyed and the fertile fields were salted so that crops would not grow and no one could live there again. Every male was killed and every female forced into slavery, no matter how young.

Her husband wasn’t educated enough to know the history of the Punic wars. But a scorched earth policy was nothing new in his world.

One thing was certain; Carthage would fall tonight. And she and Akihito belonged to Carthage.

But even after everything, the second wife’s will to survive was strong. In Carthage, the men were killed, but the women became slaves. And some of the girls later became wives to the Roman soldiers. A young female was never really seen as a threat. Especially a beautiful one.

She looked at Akihito as he danced to the music blaring on the radio, holding a new teddy bear to his stomach, swaying his little bottom side to side happily, bouncing from one tiny foot to the other. He was beautiful. And few knew what he looked like outside the compound. Few knew he existed. Takaba-sama had kept his shame well hidden. That was now to her advantage.

Akihito's hair, his golden hair gleamed in the dim light. It was long, too long, he was overdue for a haircut. It was long enough to put in two sweet little pigtails. Bows wrapped around the base.

Akihito had always wanted to wear bows in his hair. She had never let him.

“A-Akihito? Darling? Would you like to play a game?” Her voice trembled but her son didn’t notice. He bounced over excitedly and looked up at her expectantly, “Yes Mommy!”

She bent down and brushed a lock of hair from his brow, “You know that game you always wanted to play? Dress up? I think now would be a good time to play.”

He squealed in excitement and clapped his hands. He had always wanted to wear one of her dresses, but she would never let him, too afraid his father or one of his brothers might catch him in it. They would have both been beaten for it. But now, it was the only hope they had.

She let Akihito pick the dress. A pink satin Chanel with a circle skirt. He had good taste.

His little fingers stroked the fine fabric wonderingly, “This one, Mommy, its so soft and its the very prettiest color, don’t you think?”

“I do baby, and you are going to look so very, very pretty in it. Come, lets put it on.”

Akihito wasn’t one to stay still for very long, but when it was something he really wanted, he could be very, very patient. He held nearly perfectly still as she quickly cut, pinned and roughly sewed the dress to fit him. She had always been very handy with a needle and thread. As a girl she had made her own clothes. How she had despised her own simple, rustic, handmade garments. She had longed for the fine dresses, displayed in the shop windows on the streets of Paris and sold by snooty salesgirls with red lips. The irony was clear as she destroyed the designer gown to make a handmade dress for her son. It was simple, cut on the bias, making use of what seams she could. She cut a thin strip of fabric from the remnants of the skirt and used it to make a sash that tied in a big bow in the back and nipped the dress in around Akihito’s tiny waist. It caused the skirt to flare out prettily. Akihito couldn’t resist giving it a twirl, raising up on his little pink toes and spinning a bit unsteadily.

His sweet voice was full of wonder as he twisted his hips back and forth and watched the pink silk move like water in the mirror, “Its so pretty Mommy.”

She kissed his cheek and met the blue eyes of his reflection, “No baby, YOU are so pretty.”

Akihito beamed and she led him across the room, seating him at her dressing table. The bright lights made his blue eyes shine. She mopped his smudgy face with a clean handkerchief and had him close his eyes so she could dust on the finest hint of mascara on his long blonde lashes, making them darker. She pressed a hint of pink lipbalm to his lips for shine and tied his blond hair into two sweet pigtails, with pink bows tied under each of his ears.

When it was done and he looked up at her, she couldn’t contain the gasp that arose in her throat. Akihito’s smooth brow furrowed into a frown, “What is it Mommy? Is something wrong?”

He stood carefully on the chair and peered curiously in the mirror. His dark lashes flew wide and he reached for the mirror wonderingly as if expecting to touch the child reflected in it and make sure what he saw was real, “Is- is that ME?”

Her throat was too tight to speak. The boy looked like a living doll. He was so beautiful she could hardly believe her eyes. Akihito had always been beautiful, always. But she had been careful to hide it as much as she could; dressing him in drab, baggycast offs from his brother’s closets and letting his shaggy hair fall into his face to obscure his delicate features. But now…. now with his hair pulled back with ribbons, his creamy skin exposed by the pink dress that did wonders for his coloring, the hint of cosmetics to accentuate his lovely lips and stunning lashes… and the joy that was shining in his eyes….. Akihito was magnificent.

Fat tears welled from her eyes and plopped onto the floor. Akihito looked up at her with concern as she tried to pull herself together. Her boy was wearing the first pretty thing he had ever been allowed and she wanted this to be perfect for him. This was how she wanted him to feel. Beautiful and happy and accepted for who he was and able to express it freely. A life without fear or judgment. That was the life she wanted for him, more than anything.

She clasped him in her arms, “Oh baby, you look so beautiful. The most beautiful boy in the whole world.”

His little face beamed and she swung him down from the chair. He immediately started back what he had been doing before, swaying his little bottom side to side happily, bouncing from one tiny pink foot to the other, all while the full skirt of his dress swirled around his ankles. The smile on his face was radiant.

The music was turned up so loud, the second wife didn’t notice the large man in black who had come to stand in the doorway.

As the last of the Takaba yakuzas lay gasping like fish out of water, in growing pools of their own blood, Asami Ryuichi stepped into the boy’s room and finally laid eyes on his prize.

He stopped, unable to believe the vision before him.

Akihito… was not the Akihito he had seen earlier; sad eyed and smudgy cheeked, wearing clothes too big for him, dejected and unhappy. This Akihito was radiant, joyful and the most beautiful thing Ryuichi had ever seen in his entire life. His pretty golden curls were swept back and tied with little pink bows behind his adorable ears, exposing his lovely little face in profile, with his up-turned button nose, pouting Cupid’s bow lips and the longest lashes he had ever seen. The boy was dressed in a pink satin dress that brought out the color in his creamy skin. But it was the smile on his face that captured Ryuichi’s attention and held it. It was the soft, joyful smile of a child completely at peace with himself and the world around him.

So stunned he couldn't move, Ryuichi just stood there and gaped. For a moment, he felt as though his heart had stopped beating. He'd heard people say they had fallen in love in an instant and they knew. Before this moment, that saying had no real meaning to him. But now he understood, it was like falling off the edge of a cliff. Falling so fast you couldn't breath. For several moments, he couldn’t get air into his lungs. It was like getting suckerpunched in the gut. But it wasn’t pain he felt. It was an all consuming warmth and hunger, as his heart expanded inside his chest. A slow smile dawned on his handsome face as he watched the beautiful little boy dancing, his skirt swirling as he spun around the room with his arms thrown wide.

All of a sudden the little one’s blue eyes opened wide and he stopped, freezing in place, staring at Ryuichi like the proverbial child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The little boy drew back into himself, watched him with huge wary eyes full of fear. Ryuichi could see that he was frightened. Knowing the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his father and brothers, Akihito probably expected to be beaten. From his stricken expression, Ryuichi guess that physical punishment wasn’t the only thing he was afraid of. He had been caught red-handed, dressing like a girl and enjoying it. Ryuichi had discovered Akihito’s secret, a secret his mother had probably helped him hide his entire life. It was a secret Ryuichi could use to make his life a living hell, like his brothers had done.

Only he wouldn’t. Never again. Seeing the beautiful boy dressed like this, Ryuichi was thunderstruck. Fascinated. Enraptured. If Akihito wanted to wear pink dresses and bows in his hair for the rest of his life, that was fine with Ryuichi. He would keep his secret, and protect it.

Akihito moved to stand behind his mother’s legs, peeping out at him, one little hand twined in the fabric of her skirt, one little thumb in his mouth. He looked at Ryuichi with fear, his mother looked at him with terror; her lips were pressed together tightly. Her mouth drooped on the left, as if trying to slide off her face. She looked like a painting that had been left out in the rain. A masterpiece laid to ruin. The left side of her face was pristine, unmarred and clearly showed how beautiful she had been… the right side looked like crumpled paper. Her cheekbone seemed to have been broken and left untreated resulting in a disfiguring hollow defect of her cheek. The damage had obviously affected the lower branches of the facial nerve resulting in paresthesia and destroying her motor function. That side of her face was entirely slack.

Had he not already gutted her husband alive in the freezer beside the pigs, he would have made him pay for that too. He had cried so beautifully before Ryuichi took his eyes from their sockets and forced him to eat them.

The music played on in the background, covering the silence in the room with the violin strings of a waltz. Moving slowly, ever so cautiously, Ryuichi closed the distance between them. The mother remained frozen in fear. Eyes large and luminous; the boy looked between the two of them uncertainly, feeling her anxiety but not sure what to do. When he came within arm's length, he knelt on the floor, smiling gently, “Hello Akihito.”

Long lashes fluttered shyly. Charmingly. He didn’t take the thumb out when he answered, “Hewoh Wyuichi.”

Ryuichi gallantly held out his hand to Akihito, “Would you like to dance?”

A slow smile spread across his beautiful face and his eyes lit up eagerly. He looked up at his mother for permission. Her eyes were full of fear and suspicion, but she nodded. It burned in Ryuichi, that Akihito looked to her for guidance, for comfort, for permission. Ryuichi wanted Akihito to look to him and only him for those things. Always.

He pushed those feelings aside for the moment as a small hand was placed inside his own. A perfect little hand that Ryuichi bent his dark head to kiss. Akihito giggled and his thumb popped out of his mouth, “That tickles Ryuichi!”

Ryuichi did it again, just to see that smile once more and then he swept the little boy up in his arms. He held him tight, his little bottom balanced on one strong arm while the other held his tiny hand in a dancer’s grips. His feet strode forwards, sideways and back in a waltz that circled the small room. His men watched stoically, too smart to let their faces show any kind of surprise. They had seen him do some strange things, but this was by far the strangest. It was insane. He knew it was. But looking down at the boy’s small face, at his beautiful smile, Ryuichi felt like a man who had found the treasure at the end of the rainbow.

Akihito was small and delicate and fit perfectly into his arms. Ryuichi pressed his cheek to the curls atop the little one’s head and inhaled deeply of the soft baby fresh scent of his perfect skin.

Well, not so perfect….

He could see bruises and blood blisters all over his shoulders and arms, the result of painful pinches and slaps. His beautiful Akihito had been horribly wronged. Rage coiled inside his heart, yet again, but he refused to let it take hold. He would make it up to him. He would make all the wrongs right. This was their first dance, and although there would be many, many more to come, right now, all that mattered was the precious boy he held in his arms.

Looking back on the events that had led them to one another, he felt certain that it was fate. That somehow all of the horrible things that brought them together had been prearranged. That he was meant to find this boy, to protect him and love him and keep him safe. And that this boy was meant to brighten his world, to beat back the dark and drag his heart back into the light. It was completely unexpected; a precious, lovely gift a monster like him did not deserve.

But God help him, he was never going to let Akihito go.

In one short day, the boy had become his whole world. And now he would become Akihito’s. The boy would have no one, love no one, but him.

Like a bride and groom on their wedding day, Ryuichi circled the floor with the baby in his arms, cherished and adored, in their first dance, spinning around and around and around, with every footprint outlined by the red blood of Akihito’s father.

-


	13. Voraphilia, Coprophagia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voraphilia is the sexual desire to consume or be consumed by another human being. Coprophagia is its bastard cousin; the desire to consume another person’s feces. These are both pretty taboo kinks, but the root of both is the desire to intimately connect with the person of interest, to take a piece of them inside and possess it. When I began doing research on the different paraphilias I wanted to write about, I kept circling back to these, somewhat morbidly fascinated. They fit this story so well, but are obviously incredibly impractical and quite disturbing. I don’t want Asami to actually eat Akihito or consume his fecal matter. *retches* For a time, I couldn’t figure out how I was going to write them, even though I desperately wanted to include them because Asami's desire to entirely consume and possess Akihito is a big theme in this story.... So I found a way to express both fetishes without any actual cannibalism or feces, but the squick factor still comes pretty close. I highly recommend you do not read this unless you have a very, VERY strong stomach. If so, carry on….. I'll just be roasting marshmallows in hell, waiting for company.

Asami plucked one of the grapes remembering how beautiful it had looked disappearing into the little hole of Akihito’s mouth. 

He wanted to see it disappear into another hole now.

“Does it feel empty inside you? Do you ache to be filled?”

Akihito moaned helplessly and nodded, his eyes fluttering behind his blindfold. He did. He wanted the horrible thing that was holding his asshole open to be taken out and he wanted something else in. Something that would fill him up from the inside. 

Asami chuckled darkly at his eagerness, “Alright then Princess, lets get you filled up.”

He felt Asami’s strong hands wrap around his hips and lift them until he was on his knees. Akihito pushed himself up on his hands so he was resting on all fours, but then he felt Asami press down between his shoulders, pushing his head back down. Akihito rested his cheek on the pillow, but held his ass high like Asami had positioned him.

He heard the uncapping of the champagne bottle and thought that was odd, Asami hated champagne….. Then Akihito screamed in surprise as he felt the cold liquid rushing into his bowels. He clenched, wishing to protect his insides from the bubbling, frothing fluid and stop its intrusion, but the thing held his bowels spread open mercilessly and he could do nothing more than helplessly quiver while it rushed deep inside him. It was worse than the enema. Much worse. It entered him all at once because of the spread of his ass and then it fizzed in his guts, making his stomach churn and roil and the cold took his breath away.

But all of a sudden, the flow of the champagne stopped and he felt something else enter his ass. Asami dropped the object into his ass and it splashed in the pool of fluid still funneling into the small hole at the end of his wide open tunnel. It was small and round and cold….. it was one of the grapes. Akihito shuddered in recognition.

One by one, Asami popped the grapes inside, rolling them down the front of his hole. He seemed to be trying to make a game of it, flicking them like marbles so that they ran over his sweet spot. Each time a cold grape rolled over his prostate, Akihito flinched and trembled. It felt strange but good. More grapes were pressed inside him. His belly began to feel full, the weight of the little fluid-filled fruits was starting to add up, but still Asami pressed more into him. This was more than he had ever done before. He began to writhe as his stomach began to distend, the weight was unbearable, the cold and the stretch of his tender opening. It was aching and throbbing from being held so long.

Akihito could feel himself babbling incoherently, “Oh God. P-Please, please Daddy. Can’t take anymore. Can’t take… too full. Please Daddy. Oh please please please….”

A strong hand rubbed soothing circles on his back and Akihito was reminded who was in control. He was safe. Everything was ok. He felt the thing click closed slightly and then was slowly withdrawn from his backside. A few of the grapes burst as it was withdrawn and Akihito cried out at the unfamiliar sensation. The cold juices exploding in his tight canal felt exhilarating and he could feel the grapes jostling inside him, rolling and massaging his tunnel and sweet spot with every slight movement. He clenched his buttocks to feel it again. Another burst and the grapes rolled around, pressing and massaging his guts. The champagne was absorbing into his rectum and making his head spin. 

Asami could tell Akihito was on cloud nine, so far in subspace he would let him do anything to his pretty body, no matter how filthy or nasty. He spread one hand wide across Akihito’s distended stomach, gently massaging it, enjoying the way it felt cold and hard, like it was full of marbles. He could feel the grapes jostling and rolling around inside him when Asami’s hand squeezed his bulging tummy. One of the dark, purple grapes was bulging out of his poor little stretched hole. Asami pressed it back with his thumb until it disappeared into his pucker. Akihito groaned and his anus relaxed, pushing out reflexively and the fat grape began to emerge from his body again. He loved the soft, high pitched whimpers coming from Akihito’s throat. Enough teasing. Asami smirked, he wouldn’t need lube for this. 

Asami pressed his fat cock against the opening, the thick head pressing against the object protruding from Akihito’s asshole. He nudged it teasingly, bumping it and jostling it, knowing that every movement was conveyed to the rest of the bunch Akihito had shoved up inside him. Akihito gasped and arched his back for more, his hips already writhing in ecstasy. Asami smiled and licked his lips, his golden eyes glowing wildly. 

He began to press forward, relentlessly and he could feel the grapes mashing and smashing and breaking open with nowhere to escape. The juices were lubricating his passage and trickling out of Akihito’s ass, wetting his thighs, like cum dripping from a cunt. 

Akihito’s pretty mouth fell open, lost in the sensation. Asami took advantage of his inattention, the laxity in his muscles and quickly shoved his hard cock inside to the hilt. Even Asami could not help shuddering in pleasure. The bulbous grapes rolling and rubbing against the length of his cock while Akihito’s ass clutched at him was incredible. He could only imagine how it felt to Akihito as they either exploded or were shoved even deeper into his lovely ass.

The boy was gasping like a fish out of water, grunting gutterally, “Uggh. Nnngh. Nnngh.” His hips were wiggling in Asami’s grasp and his fingers clutched at the sheets as he tried to crawl away from the intense sensation and pressure inside him.

Asami grabbed his hips hard enough to bruise and pulled him back, impaling him on his cock again and causing the grapes to forcefully explode inside him. The juices dripped down between his legs steadily. He pressed his head back down and held Akihito’s precious ass upturned to keep as much of the fluid inside him as possible and began to fuck into his sloppy hole steadily. Akihito was moaning, thrashing helplessly underneath him, screaming for him to stop, while in the same breath, begging Asami to fuck him harder. His golden hair was wild and disheveled, curls bouncing, raining over the pillow as he tossed his head down and the nape of his lovely neck was exposed. Asami loved those elegant, elaborate hairstyles Akihito liked so much…. but this was much better. Seeing his boy let go completely, wild and untamed.

Akihito was mindless to the pleasure. He could feel the fluid jostling in his belly, filling his guts. Every cold explosion inside him sent streaks of lightning up his spine. The contrast of the soft fruits inside him, squished and churned by Asami’s hard, thick, plunging cock…. the boy’s breath came in short rapid burst as he panted, drool running from his slack lips. He was going to come, so hard. He was so close. So close.

“Daddy.. gonna cum… gonna cum… please Daddy, please Daddy, please Daddy…”

Asami grunted, his voice low and gravelly with fever lust, “Cum, Princess, come for Daddy while he makes wine in your tight little ass. Gonna drink it down. Gonna put my face between your pretty legs and suck it out of your sloppy hole. You want that? Yea baby, my precious little boy. Yea you do. Gonna drink you all up and never let you go.”

Akihito's eyes felt like they were bulging out of his head behind the blindfold as Asami’s cock slammed against his prostate again and again and then suddenly, he felt a grape roll inside of him and get trapped between the wall of his rectum and the hard cock inside him. Asami slammed it against his sweet spot until it popped. The cold burst of juice on such a delicate place sent him yowling and screaming, scrabbling to get away as his eyes crossed, his toes curled and cum shot in spurts and volleys across the sheets. 

He was barely given time to recover before Asami pulled his cock out with a loud squelch. He couldn’t see anything beyond the pitch blackness of the blindfold and he felt utterly disoriented and helpless as Asami turned him, lifted him and then arranged him to his pleasure, sitting upright, facing the foot of the bed. He wasn’t seated on a pillow though, it was hard… and warm….

Only then did Akihito realize that Asami had slid his face between his legs and that he was in fact, sitting on it.

Asami grabbed those soft rounded hips and pulled the boy’s ass down until Akihito squatted on his face. Juices gushed from his asshole, soaking his face and hair, pouring out of the slack, puffy muscle, mixed with the alcohol of the champagne and a thrilling musky tinge that was all Akihito. Asami drank it greedily, relishing the taste. He was in heaven, his face buried in the beautiful luscious ass cheeks of his sweet boy as he quivered above him in aftershocks of his orgasm. Smooth pale thighs trembled on either side of his head and Akihito stayed upright only because his fingers were wrapped around that tiny delicate waist, supporting his weight entirely with bulging biceps. It was the most perfect place in the world. He could gaze up Aki’s pale, arching, quaking back, the black blindfold that contrasted with his golden curls. His nose was buried deep in the crack of his precious boy’s ass, those full buttocks were parted and spread over his cheeks and his mouth was latched onto Akihito’s tender hole. He sucked and lapped at it, rubbing his face against the slick, slippery, slimey flesh of his crack and thighs. Sticky sweet juices were everywhere. Every so often, pulpy bits of the grapes fell out of his quivering anus into Asami’s open mouth. He could feel his hole puckering and clenching against his lips and tongue as Akihito came back to himself and began trying to regain control of the fluid pouring out his bowels and squirming to crawl away. 

Asami just grabbed his slender frame with his powerful hands and pulled him down harder onto his face. His tongue traced around his asshole, licking and kissing it and coaxing more of those sweet juices down. 

Akihito trembled and gasped for breath. As hard as he had come, his erection was unflagging. His mind was blown. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Asami and he had played with food before…. But this…. this was filthy. Disgusting. 

He was squatting on Asami’s face while his Daddy rimmed him and drank juice from his ass… Grape juice he had mashed himself while fucking Akihito into the mattress. 

The boy wasn’t given time to think about the depravity of the act that was being forced upon him. He moaned loudly as he felt the hard wet tongue of his loving Daddy slip into his anus, prying his hole open. Akihito felt another burst of juices flow out of him uncontrollably, splashing onto Asami’s face. He clenched in timid embarrassment until he felt the moan in Asami’s broad chest, rumbling in pleasure underneath him and he suddenly realized as a strong tongue lapped hungrily at the clenched rim of his ass. Asami wanted it. Wanted him to flood his face with the juices. Akihito’s stomach twisted, but he obeyed the silent command and began to squeeze the rest of the liquid out. Asami slurped and sucked it out of him, lapping at his flexing hole with his tongue, drinking from him. The sensation was incredible, the relief and the release. Akihito groaned gutturally as fluid flowed down out of him, running over Asami’s handsome face and puddling on the sheets. It felt like he was sucking out his very insides.

Even when he was empty, Asami wasn’t done. He was still hungry for more. He lifted him and cradled him and laid him down on his back, still blindfolded, the black silk contrasting sharply with his pale skin. To Asami, it made him look even younger than he was. The boy looked so beautiful, so helpless and so vulnerable as he lay there sightless and submissive, at his mercy. 

Those pink lips parted in a gasp as he felt Asami’s muscular body cover his and Asami took it as an invitation, sinking his juice-soaked tongue deep inside the boy’s mouth, knowing he could taste his own musk on it. He drank of the boy’s breath, breathing in as Akihito breathed out. Inhaling the flavors of his essence. He wanted to consume it. Drink his lifeblood. Eat his pure heart. Lap up every precious drop of Akihito’s soul and the delicious, intrinsic facets of his nature. He wanted to consume the beautiful, indispensable qualities that made him who he was. He wanted to carry him with him always, like a babe in the womb, possessing him and protecting him completely... to take Akihito inside himself, where he could never, ever escape. 

-


	14. Flashback

The second wife watched in confusion as the darkhaired young man named Ryuichi swept her son up in his arms, cradling him and spinning him around the room in a perfectly executed waltz. Akihito threw his arms wide in complete faith, leaning back and closing his eyes in bliss, putting his safety completely in Ryuichi’s hands. She had never seen her son behave that way before. Not even with her. The trust he displayed... The way Akihito looked at the tall teen… it was obvious they had met before, but where and when? And the way Ryuichi looked at Akihito frightened her. The heat in his eyes. It was not the love of a brother or a friend or a father…. it was the love of a man. Possessive and hungry. It made her uncomfortable. She moved to take her son away from him, but was stopped by a strong hand placed on her shoulder. She looked up in surprise.

A serious man in glasses shook his head at her, “I would not do that if I were you.” There warning in his eyes stopped her in her tracks.

He led her to her dressing table and pressed her firmly into the seat. He swept the cosmetics to the side and unclasped a briefcase. Several file folders were removed and opened in front of her. There were papers, legal documents, the signature lines clearly and neatly marked with yellow arrows. Her husband’s signatures were already present. All that remained were hers.

The documents were backdated to several months ago. They were addendums to Takaba-sama’s Will. Addendums specifying how assets would be distributed in the absence of any living survivors. No survivors. 

The second wife inhaled sharply her eyes flying to the mirror where she could see those golden eyes fixed on her son as they swayed to the music. In the background, she could see men in suits carrying a black bodybag that zipped up the front. There was something it, but the body would have to be small. 

Very small. Like a child. 

About Akihito’s size.

Suddenly the second wife understood. She understood that her son would live, but Takaba Akihito would die tonight with the rest of his family. She understood that there was no second bodybag coming, with a corpse her size. She still belonged to Carthage but her son belonged to Rome now. To Ryuichi. The Dragon.

Somehow she felt strangely at peace with that knowledge. 

This was the only way. The only way Akihito would not spend his life running, looking over his shoulder. He would be set free of the dark legacy of his birth. The name Takaba inspired hatred and fear all over Japan. There were many, many people who desired vengeance on the Takabas and would have taken considerable pleasure hunting him down and extracting that revenge from the lone survivor. There could be no survivors. Every Takaba must die tonight. Only then would Akihito be free.

Somehow she knew Akihito would be safe with this man Ryuichi. It was in the way he held him, the man who clutched his prize so tightly with his golden eyes glowing, with possession… but also love. The love was evident in the way he sat him down and adjusted the bow in his hair until it was perfect. The way he knelt so they were eye level, the way he talked to him softly and he handed him the teddybear. Now she knew where Aki had gotten it. He nudged the little boy towards his mother and then stood, with his arms folded across his broad chest and his long legs braced apart. Akihito came running towards her, clutching the soft plushie to his chest and suddenly she understood.

It was time to say goodbye.

Akihito bounced on his heels in excitement, “Did you see me? Did you see Mommy? We were dancing!!!”

It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat, “I saw baby, I saw. Maybe someday you’ll be a dancer!”

Blond pigtails bobbed as he shook his head vehemently, “No Mommy. I’m going to be a singer like you! And a Princess.” He pressed a little chubby finger to his plump lower lip, deep in thought, “Can I be two things when I grow up?”

Akihito could be anything he wanted now. Anything at all. But she would not live to see it. She smiled in her sad joy, “Yes, my darling boy, I think you can be lots of things. Whatever you want to be. Whoever you want to be.”

She looked to the man across the room for affirmation and he nodded imperceptibly. Akihito was ready to dart off, but she drew him back in front of her gently, looking into his blue eyes and taking both of his hands in hers, “Akihito, listen to me. Listen to me my darling. You are going to live with Ryuichi now.”

“And the teddybears?” He asked eagerly.

She had a feeling there were lots of teddybears in Akihito’s future. Teddybears, toys, books, games and anything and everything an intelligent, creative, imaginative boy like her son might want or need.

“Yes. And the teddybears.” 

“And you’re coming with me right?”

She shook her head gently, “No baby. No, I have to stay with your father.”

“Why Mommy? He’s a mean old…. mean old….” The little boy’s brow furrowed into a frown as he tried to think of a naughty word. “Poophead!”

The second wife laughed at that, “Yes, he is a poophead alright. But he is the poophead I married. And when you marry someone, you tie your fate to theirs. Thats an important thing to remember Akihito.”

He nodded solemnly, but she could tell, he didn’t understand. Perhaps someday he would. 

“I want you to be a good boy for Ryuichi. He’s going to be both your Mommy and your Daddy now. And he’s going to take such good care of you. I just know it.”

A pout crossed his sweet face, “I want you to come too!”

She lowered her lashes to hide the tears welling in her eyes, “I know darling, I know. But I won’t be far. Even when you can’t see someone, if you love them, they are never far away. I’ll always be with you Akihito. Always.”

That seemed to placate the little boy and she squeezed him tight, pressing kisses to his sweet baby cheeks, inhaling deeply the fresh scent that was his alone, “I love you baby boy, just as you are, you are perfect, you know that? Right?”

Akihito kissed her sloppily, next to her mouth, the corner that dropped down sadly, “I love you too Mommy!”

Ryuichi came to stand behind Akihito, his large hands engulfing the little boy’s tiny shoulders. “Its time to go now Akihito. We are going to play a game. Have you ever played Blind Man’s Bluff?”

He nodded, wide-eyed and curious, arching his back so he could look up and back at the much taller man behind him. Ryuichi slid the silk tie from his neck and made the loop large enough to fit around Akihito’s head. He tightened it over his eyes, completely blindfolding him. Akihito giggled as he was engulfed in total darkness. 

The second wife leaned forward and kissed his cheek one last time, “Keep that blindfold on, keep it on until they tell you to take it off, Akihito. Like a game.”

Ryuichi nodded, “When you find the other teddybear hidden in the car, you can take it off, but not before.”

He picked Akihito by his small waist and handed him to the man in the glasses. Akihito’s arms instinctively curled around the stranger’s neck but he was not frightened. He already knew Ryuichi would not hand him over to anyone that would hurt him. The dark-haired teen’s golden eyes went sharp, cold and intense as he spoke to the older man, “With your life.”

The message was clear. The man in the glasses bowed as low as he was able to with the little boy clinging to his neck and vowed, “With my life, Asami-sama”

He turned to go and the second wife suddenly realized that this was it. This was goodbye. This was the last time she would ever see her son. She pressed one last desperate kiss to his forehead as he was carried away. 

“I love you baby. Be good, be happy….”

“Happily every after?” He questioned, looking back at her blindly, repeating back the words she always finished his bedtime stories with.

“Happily ever after.” She confirmed as his blond head disappeared around the corner, leaving her alone. With the Dragon. But he wasn’t her Dragon. He was Akihito’s.

She couldn’t look at him, she was too afraid. She kept her gaze down on the document and began studiously filling in the signature lines with her name, over and over again. The only sound was the scratching of the nub on the paper. She stammered, to fill the silence, “H-he likes bedtime stories, anything about princesses. Sometimes he wets the bed. And he’s afraid of the dark. He’d rather sleep with you, if you let him. I-I did.” Her lashes flicked up timidly and he nodded, so she continued, “He likes to feel pretty. Pink, and dresses, and dolls…. He wants to be a Princess. I don’t know why, he just does.” 

She looked at him wildly, afraid of what the other man might think. Of what he might do. Tears filled her eyes, “Its probably my fault, I was too soft with him… I- I encouraged it. Please don’t punish him for it. He is so very, very sensitive. I’m sure he’ll grow out of it, please just let him be....”

Asami knelt down in front of her, eyelevel, taking her small hand in his. He spoke gently, in a tone very similar to the one he had talked to Akihito in, “I assure you, I would rather rip my still beating heart from my chest, than harm your son in anyway. I feel very much like you do, that he is perfect, just the way he is.”

She released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding with a ragged gasp of relief.

“I will love him. I will support him. I will make sure he has everything he needs and I will protect that innocence. That spark that makes him who he is. I will never allow anyone to make him feel ashamed of who he is.”

She smiled tearfully, “Thank you. Thank you.”

Once she finished signing the papers, he held out a hand and helped her to her feet. The men behind him were removing the tiny body from the bag, still cold from the morgue it had been stolen from. It would be room temperature by the time it was found. Just like her. The corpse looked almost like a doll. It was a small darkhaired boy, he looked rather like Takeo and Takeshi, nothing at all like Akihito. But that was no matter, no one knew what Akihito looked like outside of this compound, and all of those who did, were dead. The police would not question his identity, especially when the toddler’s body was found in her arms. Takaba Akihito’s death would be recorded and stamped by a lazy government official. The dark legacy of the Takabas would end with his signature on Akihito’s death certificate.

There was no faking her death, no blond haired, blue eyed body to take her place. Her face was readily recognizable from her days as a singer. The fame she had sought so hungrily was her downfall. Like the husband of her dreams and the Dragon she had prayed for. Every dream she had ever had, turned to dust in her mouth. But the second wife accepted her end peacefully. Her dreams would live on in her son, while she was buried with another woman’s child and in that moment, she loved that tiny lifeless corpse as her own. Because of his death, Akihito would be free.

The tall darkhaired young man waited patiently for her to compose her thoughts, but she knew it was time. 

But first…. she rummaged through the drawers to find it. A small photo album. Of her. Before. When she was young and happy and beautiful. That was how she wanted to be remembered. Not as the broken woman she was now. She pressed it into his hand and he nodded in understanding, slipping it into his breast pocket. “And.. and my dresses. He might want those too. Someday.”

They both knew, chances were, Akihito probably wouldn’t grow out of it. The need to feel pretty. Not something so basic. So simple. So inherent to his nature. 

He nodded again. “Is there anything else?”

She shook her head, “No. No just… don’t let my family know.” She swirled her hand over her shattered face, “About this. About any of it. Please?”

“I will take care of it, personally.”

She knew he would keep his word. The second wife drew a deep breath. For the first time, in a long time, she felt at peace. She felt calm. She felt that happy endings might truly be possible again. Not for her. But for Akihito, who had a Dragon to slay his monsters. And for the second wife…. that was her happy ending. 

She raised her chin and looked into the golden eyes past the barrel of his gun and said it one last time. “Thank you”

The Dragon raised his hand and stroked the pale, perfect curve of her undamaged cheek and reverently touched her golden hair, just two of the many gifts she had passed down to her beautiful son. He spoke lovingly to her as his thumb caressed her full lower lip and cold metal pressed against her temple, “No, Princess, Thank you.” 

In that moment, the second wife felt her heart melt, the love in his gaze was apparent, the culmination of all of her dreams in one perfect moment in time. She closed her eyes, leaning into the gentle strength of the hand on her cheek. 

It wasn’t so much painful as it was loud. So loud. Like a thousand mirrors shattering in her head, all at once. 

And then, there was nothing but silence.

And then, it was over.

-


	15. Salirophilia, Urolagnia

He took Akihito in his arms and rolled them until the blond lay on his back on the clean side of the bed. His golden locks, so perfectly coiffed not long ago, lay tangled about his shoulders. The blindfold had fallen down around his creamy throat, his skin shimmered with sweat and his ass, thighs and crotch were slick and shiny with juices. Blue eyes blinked up at him in confusion, slightly unfocused, his pupils still dilated from the darkness behind the blindfold. He looked dazed, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was awake or dreaming. He was a mess. Asami thought, with satisfaction, that he had never looked more beautiful. 

“Oh, Princess, how you tempt me…”

Strong hands encircled his tiny ankles and began to raise them up, pressing them high and wide until Akihito’s ass raised off the bed, his pretty cheeks parting so Asami could see his red, inflamed asshole. It gaped open, a pretty little void that still leaked sweet, sticky juices. It was wet and shiny and swollen and looked so puffy, tender and abused. The edges looked almost ragged, his hot pink insides furling out just a bit, his asshole blooming like a pretty little rosebud.

Asami groaned at the sight, “Such a pretty boypussy. You should see your little cunt Akihito, all puffy and pink, gaping open like a hungry little mouth. Is that a hungry pussy? Does it still want more? Does it still want Daddy’s cock, shoved up inside it? So greedy. My hungry, greedy little baby.”

The boy moaned in denial as he was nearly bent double, but his gaping asshole twitched in interest so Asami decided to feed it anyway. Hooking those delicate ankles over his broad shoulders, he pressed his hands onto the bed on either side of Akihito’s golden head and shoved his cock into his ass, balls deep, all in one hard push. The boy groaned in discomfort, mewling and whining, his blue eyes fluttering open. Asami ignored him and continued to piston inside him. He was stretched and loose and his hole was sloppy and slick, he had more than enough lube. He had nothing to complain about. Brat. 

Asami pounded into him mercilessly, pressing his ankles to his ears as he leaned down to taunt him, “Little bratty boy. Complaining about Daddy’s cock. Maybe I should make you take Daddy’s fist. See how sweetly you whine with my arm shoved up your hungry little boy hole.”

Akihito’s eyes went wide with the threat and he shook his head in fear, golden locks flying, “No Daddy, no please. You can’t! Your hands are so big, you’ll split me in two! I didn’t mean to whine, I just… I….I...”

His face flushed red and he stopped, Asami immediately realized what was the matter and he smirked, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit higher in Akihito’s belly, pressing and grinding his cock against the boy’s bladder. Shyness and shame had no place between them. If Akihito needed something, he was going to have to ask for it like a big boy. Golden eyes glinted as Akihito whined in discomfort and he pressed on it again, dropping some of his body weight down on the boy’s tight stomach. All the fruit and champagne he had consumed was finally getting to him and his poor bladder was swollen and full. Asami poked and prodded at it with his cock, cruelly rabbit-fucking him with short, quick thrusts.

Finally Akihito’s discomfort overcame his shyness and he grabbed his stomach, “Please Daddy! I have to pee. Can I go to the bathroom? I’ll be right back, I promise!”

Asami nuzzled his sweet pink cheek and began to ease up on his thrusts, “Such a good boy. A good boy deserves a reward, doesn’t he?”

The beautiful blond nodded enthusiastically… hopefully. Asami almost never made things this easy, but Akihito was happy he wasn’t going to torment him this time by making him hold it. Asami loved to make him hold until until he just couldn't stand it, watching him squirm and writhe.... And while he gave him privacy to void his bowels, Asami always, always watched him pee. Akihito panted as Asami pushed up inside him again. He had to pee so bad. It came on him all of a sudden and now it was an insistent throbbing ache in his belly and every thrust of Asami’s cock made it worse. 

He gasped in grateful relief as Asami slowly slid out of him, removing the pressure from his overfull bladder, “Oh Thank you, thank you Daddy!”

Asami moved off of him and Akihito began rolling to his side to get up and run to the toilet, but Asami calmly grabbed both of his wrists and handcuffed them to the headboard. The boy just stared up at him in stun, “But… you said….”

A rough hand palmed his piss hardened cock, golden eyes gleaming at him smugly, “I said good boys deserve a reward. This is your reward Akihito, you get to wet the bed, piss all over Daddy’s nice sheets. Go potty my good boy.”

He sat back expectantly. Akihito’s cock waved proudly in the air in absolute defiance of the boy’s feelings. Aki ground his teeth together. He wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t going to pee on the bed, wet himself like a child in front of Asami. Blue eyes narrowed furiously on the object of his irritation and the word was out of his mouth before he could stop it, “NO.”

A dark eyebrow arched in surprise, “No Akihito? Did you just tell your Daddy no?”

Regret immediately twisted in his stomach and he wished he could take it back. He started blabbering frantically, “I’m sorry Daddy! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’ll go potty now, like a good boy.” His belly flexed and strained, but his nerves and anxiety made it impossible. It was too late anyway. 

He heard the sterile pack ripped open and saw Asami draw it out; a slim, flexible metal rod, slimmer than a pencil and not quite as long. Akihito shuddered in recognition.

“No Daddy. No please. I’ll be good, I’ll be good!!”

Asami waved his finger at him, “Good boy don’t tell their fathers ‘No’” 

Big blue eyes stared up at him sadly, pleading, even though he knew very well; it was too late for that. Asami looked sternly down at his disobedient little boy. Akihito was so far regressed, he cowered down on the bed, dropping his eyes like the very guilty, very naughty little boy he thought he was. He wanted to smile, but it would ruin the moment. Asami lubed the sound up and spread the boy’s legs, reaching between them to hold Akihito’s little pink penis firmly. Akihito held still as if he was frozen. He knew better than to move during this. His piss slit was twitching and there was fluid pooling at the tip. Asami knew he had to pee and badly. He gently palpated Aki’s stomach to judge the distension of his bladder. He was full, but Asami knew his boy’s body well and that he could hold it a little longer without harm. Asami teased the sound around the slit, dipping it in gently before pulling it out again. Akihito watched wide-eyed as Asami repeated this a few times, carefully stretching his most tender hole, before guiding the sounding rod slowly into him, slowly penetrating his cock, inch by inch.

Akihito panted, pulling uselessly on the handcuffs, but he was grateful for the security holding him down, grounding him as Asami guided the cold metal into him. The stretch burned and itched just the same as the first time Asami had done this to him. It always felt like the first time. His little hole was so sensitive, it was the most sensitive place on his body and he knew Asami knew it too. He felt stuffed in a way just having his ass filled, couldn’t do. The slick, cold metal sank deep into him, the piss and precum that had been in his hole oozed up around it as it disappeared into his throbbing little penis, sinking all the way to the little ball at the end that kept it from going further inside. Asami had the sound made just for Akihito’s length.

He whimpered. His cock ached so bad. So did his balls. And his tummy. He needed to pee. He needed to cum. He needed… he needed. Akihito’s eyes rolled and he whimpered loudly as Asami pulled it out and then let it slow sink back into Akihito’s rock hard penis. He did it again. And again. And again. Sliding it out about halfway before sinking back down again, fucking Akihito's cock. Tormenting him. 

“Should I put one of these inside you in the cockcage baby? Plug your poor little piss hole up so you can’t even pee when you want to? Make you come to Daddy and beg so sweetly to go to the bathroom for me. You would like it, you naughty little boy. You would love having your hole plugged up. Maybe I should plug both of your sweet little holes and leave you like that.”

Akihito whimpered at the thought of such humiliation, his hands clenching in the cuffs as he shook his head desperately, “No Daddy, no. Please don’t do that. Please don’t stuff both of my little holes!”

Asami’s wicked white teeth flashed as he grinned, “Too bad.”

He pressed the sound in with his thumb and shoved his cock into the boys dripping anus. Akihito arched his back as if he had been shocked by an electric volt. His cock twitched and bounced against his tight belly as he shivered from the overstimulation. As Asami’s cock moved in and out of his backside, he couldn’t stop the movement of the metal sound in his own cock, sliding in and out with Asami’s strokes, fucking his cock on the inside, stimulating him even more.

Asami began to fuck him hard, pressing his knees to the side so Akihito had no control over the depth of penetration whatsoever. He was spread wide, pinned down like a butterfly, being fucked so hard his whole body was jostling forward and back, the metal sound sliding, rubbing in his sensitive urethra. It burned and hurt and he couldn’t help but squeeze down on it reflexively to try and keep it still but that just made it worse. His world constricted to the pressure in his stomach, the cock splitting his ass and the slick metal rubbing inside his prick until Akihito was a shivering, moaning mess. He was full, so full it felt like he might burst at any moment. He arched his hips, helplessly reaching for his release.

“NNNNghhh Daaaaaaa-ddyyy Ugggh Uggh.”

Asami’s dark hair fell over his forehead and his golden eyes glinted, but he just held those slender legs wide and fucked him harder and deeper, pounding into him like freight train trying to barrel its way through his stomach. Akihito’s skin was flushed, he was sweating from his need to urinate and he began to pant in time with Asami’s thrusts, deep breaths in his gut. He arched his back, pressing his head back into the pillows and he twisted and thrashed in his bonds, moaning incoherently. He felt feverish, delirious, his whole body tingling. He could feel his balls drawing close up to his body, ready to push out what little cum was left in them. His bladder was close to exploding, but the metal sound was still inside, shifting and sliding around inside his sensitive urethra, driving him mad but plugging his hole so he could neither cum nor piss.

It was too much, too much. The ache in his holes, the hot burn, the deep slide and just as it overwhelmed him, as his body tensed up and his toes curled…. Asami’s golden eyes were watching Akihito’s face closely and he noticed the moment when the beautiful boy’s discomfort began to turn to pain and he withdrew the slim metal rod from his cock, sliding it out of the tiny abused hole with a small pop. 

Akihito came immediately, throwing his head forward as his thin body jacknifed under Asami’s weight, bruising his handcuffed wrists, his ass spasming and clenching around the thick cock that was shoved deep inside him. As soon as his orgasm slowed, his bladder contracted and he pissed himself. The boy screamed in shock, trying desperately to regain control over his body.

Asami grunted in satisfaction as Akihito's warm urine flooded his groin, “Yes, baby, yes! Let it go! There’s my sweet baby boy.”

Aki moaned and cried out helplessly, the only word he could remember, “Daddy! Daddy!!! Daddyy!!!”

The urine burned inside his cock, stinging his irritated urethra and the sting of it just made his tormented body clench up harder, his ass rippling and squeezing in a death grip around Asami’s cock as he milked it. Asami came with a grunt and flooded his guts with semen while Akihito’s urine streamed down in hot rivulets over the boy's tight stomach and milky thighs, running down the crack of his ass and soaking Asami’s crotch and the bed beneath them until he was laying in a puddle of it. The release was orgasmic in itself. He moaned in humiliation, as he lost control of his bladder, helpless to stop the stream that sprayed out of him, even as he continued to spasm in orgasm, whimpering and gasping, shuddering and twitching in Asami’s arms as he rode out one of the most intense orgasms he had ever had. His chest was heaving, he could hardly breathe. He gasped once, then twice. It felt like he was back in the corset, like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. His blood beat in his ears with the rhythm of his heart. Akihito felt like he was spinning totally and utterly out of control. He had wet himself, like a helpless baby; helpless and weak without any control over his own body. 

He whimpered in childish fear, his blue eyes searching for his anchor and he found it in Asami’s calm, comforting, golden gaze. His world constricted until there was only one thought, one thing in his mind. Daddy. That was his Daddy. His Daddy was here. Daddy would make it better. He would keep him safe, make everything right. Daddy would take care of him. Everything was ok, as long as Daddy was in control. Daddy….

Asami could see the ultimate submission in his lovely eyes and he gave him the praise he so desperately craved. Gentle lips pressed to his sweaty brow, “Good boy Akihito, that’s my good baby boy. Daddy will take care of you. Come here precious, that's it. Daddy’s here, Daddy loves you.” 

His caresses were as soft as his voice. Strong arms wrapped around his quaking body and held him tight as the fragile beauty began to weep in relief; utterly broken. Asami stroked his hair as he would a child, cradling him gently. Akihito was squirming trying to get as close as he could. He ached everywhere, was overwhelmed and exhausted. His only focus was the safety in those strong arms. Asami knew this and coaxed him through it. He was crying, sobbing and clutching at him until finally, Akihito shuddered one last time and then passed out in exhaustion with Asami’s lips buried in the honeyed curls of his temples, whispering words of love over and over and over….

-


	16. Flashback

It was strange to Ryuichi, how foreign his father looked to him. 

And yet the face he stared into was quite nearly his own. There was nothing of his mother in him. 

He frowned, examining it; the wrinkles in his forehead and the corners of his amber eyes, the gray in his still thick hair, the way the skin around his strong jaw had loosened every so slightly, sagging, destroying the sharp angularity of his handsome face. It was as if he was a photograph of his younger self, taken just a little out of focus. 

It was strange to think, that in fifty seven years, this would the face he saw in the mirror. 

His father was old. Ryuichi wasn’t quite sure when that had happened, but it had. He was old, he was tired and he was slow. 

It didn’t mean he wasn’t still to be taken seriously. He had built the largest yakuza syndicate in Japan, with over fifty thousand members in over eight hundred clans. Those were men all sworn to fight to the death for him, to bleed for him, to kill for him. Asami Ryu possessed an army larger than most countries. And Ryuichi had just doubled it for him. All those who had worked for the Takabas were now being either sworn in or killed. News of the entire family’s massacre had spread quickly, within hours, it was on the news. An internal coup gone bad the reporters were already saying on the news networks. Everyone knew it wasn’t true, but no one was stupid enough to point fingers at the Asamis. Especially now. 

His father was enraged at the insubordination Ryuichi had showed by going around him; that he had attacked a rival clan with numbers nearly as great as their own, which could have started a bloody gang war that could have lasted for years, decades even. That he had gambled everything on a whim.

But to Ryuichi it was simple. He had saw an opportunity, he took it. It was cut and dry. 

He had not gambled, because he knew he would not lose.

Asami could not see that. But there were many things the old man could no longer see. Japan was cracking down on the yakuzas, trying to starve them. The constant negative publicity in the news made the public clamour for the government to do something. They passed laws making it more and more difficult to operate freely as they had in the old days. The new anti-gang laws had been devastating to their traditional means of making easy money; extortion, payday lending, racketeering and blackmail. Anti-mafia ordinances barred them from opening new bank accounts and signing real estate contracts. Their assets had been frozen overseas and they had been banned from conducting business in numerous countries due to their involvement in money laundering, drug dealing, human trafficking… it was time for them to evolve. They had to get smarter. There was no future in the old petty yakuza tricks and crimes, shaking people down and stealing their pin money. Due to the loss in prestige, they were hemorrhaging members. Ryuichi knew that if they were going to avoid the fate of the mafia of the United States, being slowly starved out of existence, they would have to become something else entirely. They had to evolve or die.

Ryuichi had his sights set on the playgrounds of the real criminals; Wall Street and downtown Shinjuku. 

By tying themselves to legitimate businesses, establishing front companies, they had the opportunity to become the richest, most powerful criminal organization on the planet. It was time to move up the ladder. His father unfortunately had no interest in climbing. He had done things the same way all of his life and saw no reason to change now. He was blind to the way the world had changed around him. In his old age, he had become stubborn and irrational.

Each day Ryuichi brought opportunities to him and he struck them down. They fought, two indomitable wills clashing, but Ryuichi always bowed in the end. 

Not this time.

“You brought Takaba’s son here, under MY roof?!”

Spittle flew from his lips, his eyes wild, his face flushed in fury. Ryuichi did not answer. He had already said what he came to say. He would not say it again. 

His father stared at him, reading the resolution on his face but still trying to dissuade him from keeping the little boy alive, “You slaughtered his entire family. He won’t forget that.”

Ryuichi’s eyes glimmered coldly, “He is a baby. He’ll remember what I tell him to remember.”

The lines around Asami’s mouth hardened, “Boys grow into men Ryuichi. And he has Takaba blood in his veins. Tainted with pure evil. Like rabid dogs. You should put it down now."

His son stared him down impassively. Dark brows drew down in anger and the threat hissed from his lips, "You do it.... or I will.”

Asami moved to stand and make good on his threat, but he was staring down the barrel of a gun before he could blink. There was no doubt in his mind that Ryuichi was going to pull the trigger. He was his father’s son, in every way. The old man thought briefly about pulling his own, but his brains would be splattered over the wall behind him before he could even slid his hand under his suitcoat. And it wouldn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t kill his son; his legacy, his immortality.

He leaned back in his chair and the old leather creaked. Ryuichi’s hand never wavered as the barrel of his Beretta tracked his movements. It was a good gun, accurate, perfectly balanced. He had given it to him on his sixteenth birthday. 

There was just one question, “Why?” Why would Ryuichi chose a child he had just met over his own father, the child of his enemy?

“Because he is mine.”

Asami looked into his golden eyes and saw a smoldering heat in them he had never seen before. He had been looking into those eyes his entire life and never seen anything but a solid sheet of ice. He saw fire now. Flames burning out of control. He knew what that felt like. There had been flames in his eyes once. A long time ago. Before she had run from him. Before they killed her, extinguishing his fire for good. He knew how it would end; the boy would run or be consumed. There was no other choice when faced with a Dragon's flames, burning out of control.

He shook his head, “You won’t keep him. Not forever.”

Ryuichi was unwavering, “However long I can have him, that will be long enough.”

Asami nodded in resignation. There would be no reasoning with Ryuichi, just like there had been no reasoning with him when he saw her. He saw her and he had to have her, damn the consequences. And he would have eliminated any threat to protect what was his. Just like Ryuichi was doing. 

His son spoke quietly, “Give my love to mother.”

Asami smirked. There was no fear in his eyes, “We both know thats not where I’m going.”

Ryuichi nodded and a glimmer of admiration passed across his handsome features; the same admiration that was written on his father’s. It wasn’t love. But it was respect and to men like them, that was all that mattered.

He angled the shot through his mouth, into the back of his throat and through the base of his father's brainstem, ending his consciousness instantly, though his body would live for several moments more. The heart continued to beat, but breathing stopped. The actual cause of death would be asphyxiation. He stayed with his father through it, as his large frame jumped and twitched and finally he was gone. Ryuichi closed his father’s empty eyes and arranged his tie, snugging it up tightly to his collar. He wiped the blood from his lips and chin like a mother might wipe a child’s mouth. There was no damage to his face, the entrance wound hidden in his throat, the exit wound neat and small on the nape of his neck. He sat in his chair as if he had simply fallen asleep, looking every inch the dictator he had been, dignity in death.

The men who waited for him were loyal to both his father and him. They had seen what was coming for a long time. The gunshot was no surprise to them. Nor was the man that emerged from the doorway. 

They bowed low, hands over their hearts, murmuring his name, “Asami-sama”

He was no longer Ryuichi. Asami’s golden eyes glowed but for a second before he started issuing orders. Change had come. It was time to climb; straight to the top of the towers in Shinjuku. 

-


	17. Somnophilia, Infantilism

The beautiful boy came, losing complete control of his body, twitching, spasming and convulsing, giving himself over completely to his father’s hand. His eyes looked for solace and comfort in the one who loved him more than life as he submitted completely. 

Asami's heart swelled in his chest. So beautiful, so perfect. 

Akihito’s gorgeous legs splayed apart as he passed out. His entire body went lax, his limp cock resting all sweet and vulnerable on his thigh, completely depleted. The boy’s body was still trembling from his orgasm, his neck angled back over Asami's arm and his mouth flopped open, panting, even in his sleep. His pale perfect skin was covered in cum, sweat and piss. He looked filthy, debauched and utterly fucked out. 

And he was smiling. 

The corners of his plush pink lips turned up ever so slightly in his sleep…. Asami smirked and then snapped his hips hard, shoving his cock in as deep as he could as he emptied the last of his cum inside his belly. The boy’s body jerked like a marionette and he moaned unconsciously, his pretty lashes fluttering. Asami waited for a long moment to pull out, holding himself tight inside the boy’s sloppy hole, wanting feel every last twitch and tremor. He waited to withdraw until the frantic pulse at the base of Akihito’s throat slowed and his breathing took on the steady cadence of sleep.

The boy had always been a deep sleeper. Even under normal circumstances, trying to wake Akihito was like trying to wake the dead. Oh, the sweet sleep of the innocent. Asami sometimes felt he had never really slept, only rested his eyes. He was always aware. Ever watchful. 

But not Akihito, he slept deeply, so completely, so trusting. Asami could do anything to him in his sleep and he would never remember a thing. His sweet innocent baby boy. 

And tonight, so exhausted, Akihito was sleeping as deeply as Asami had even seen. His pretty mouth hung slightly open, as he breathed softly. Asami leaned down to smell his breath. He could smell the fruit and the sweet champagne and the musk that was all Akihito. For a while, he simply stayed that way, Asami’s mouth open over Akihito’s. Breathing in as the boy breathed out, enjoying the air that came from deep inside of him and then slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips against Akihito’s. The boy whimpered in his sleep, a soft helpless sound. It was beautiful.

“My sweet little baby. My darling Princess. You’re so pretty, so, so pretty. ” Asami murmured, rubbing his stubbled cheek against silky soft skin. He clutched at the boy’s helpless body, his hands roaming over it, smearing the fluid all over him, spanning his tiny waist, spreading his thighs, grabbing his plump buttocks, pinching his nipples and cupping his soft, vulnerable genitals. He was so dirty, so sticky; the cum, juice and urine drying on his skin even as Asami smeared it around. Asami knew he wouldn't like that. He would want to be clean, his Princess was so very fastidious.

He tilted the boy’s head to the side and whispered in his ear, “I’ll get you all clean Pumpkin, all clean and dry and warm, in a little bit. You have to bear it, just a little longer, for Daddy, sweetling.”

He moaned in his sleep as Asami rolled his limp body over onto his belly, arranging his limbs the way he wanted with his head to the side, cheek pressed into the bed. He lifted his hips high and placed him on his knees with his bottom in the air, his sweet pucker exposed. Akihito snuffled a little, but he stayed completely lax as Asami positioned his body like a doll. His legs were parted, his vulnerable private parts displayed between them and his asshole was relaxed with his pretty pink insides revealed. It hung open like a mouth slack in sleep, drooling wet strings of cum down the backs of his thighs. Asami frowned at that. He didn’t want even a drop of his release to escape from Akihito’s body. He wanted to fill him up, flood his hole with cum so that when he woke up in the morning he would remember their lovemaking, how sexy he was, and how very much his Daddy loved him. Asami poked at his hole with one finger, collecting the semen and pushing it back inside. There was a small pool of cum on the bed where it had already leaked out of him. Unacceptable.

Asami thrust three fingers into the sticky mess of his backside and spread them, stretching the hole wide. He watched as the milky fluid ran back down inside his pink rectum, pooling at his internal sphincter and slowing draining down further, as if through a funnel. He wanted to put more in there. He wanted to cum inside him, again and again, fill him up until his belly was distended, not with food, drink or water…. but with Asami’s cum, so much that his little tummy would pooch as if he were pregnant. And then he would plug Akihito up and keep him like that.

The thought aroused Asami so much, his cock swelled to a full erection; immediately thick, hard and ready to press its way back into his sweet Princess. Akihito let out a small, helpless whine as Asami gripped his thin hips and thrust back into his sloppy hole, plunging into the sticky mess inside. Asami bent and pressed a kiss to his pale, sweat soaked back. Beautiful. Akihito was too deep in sleep to move, snoring softly with his limbs still splayed awkwardly apart. Asami ran his fingers over his round butt cheeks and grasped the plush flesh hard enough to bruise. He used him like a ragdoll, pulling him forward and back, impaling the unconscious boy on his cock as he remained still. Akihito’s mouth opened and he drooled on the bedcovers, occasionally whimpering or whining in his sleep. His golden hair bounced as he rocked. His limp privates dangled, useless, swaying back and forth between his spread legs. 

Asami leaned forward, still viciously snapping his hips forward, plunging into the boy’s soft pink insides. He twined his fingers in that long, thick hair and pulled his head back. Akihito’s throat was bared, his neck bent back as his sleeping body continued to jolt with every thrust. Asami curved his arm under his waist to keep him in place as he pressed kisses over his thin back, marking and biting his spine. He breathed deeply, nosing his sticky skin, smelling the warm, earthy musk of his sweet boy’s urine, sweat and cum. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to taste him.

His strong hands pulled the limp little boy upright, pressing him back against his thick chest. He held Akihito tightly, his face pressed into the soft of his neck, biting and sucking and licking, running his tongue over the sweet flesh. Purple marks would appear tomorrow in the crook and back of his neck, physical evidence of his Daddy’s love for him. Asami wanted to keep him marked and filled always, so he could never forget, how much he was wanted. Akihito’s head lolled forward and Asami supported it with a cupped hand, twisting it so his ear was at Asami’s lips. Into that pale shell, he whispered his words of love. His hands roamed the boy’s chest, pulling at his nipples, molesting his limp cock, his testicle loose in their sack, spreading down his thin sides, tracing the curve of his waist, pressing into the flat of his stomach that bulged with his thrusts, the fat battering ram of his cock abusing the inside of his slack belly. 

Akihito’s hair obscured his face as it hung forward, his head tossed back and forth as Asami fucked him, pounding into his helpless, doll-like body. He fucked him eagerly, eager to pump him full of cum again, his cock pressing and pushing into his soft pink insides as if trying to make a place for himself, inside Akihito. 

Finally he came, grunting and pressing inside, sealing his cock into Akihito’s poor little hole as he spurted thick wet cum wetly, as deep inside him as he could get. He held himself rigid, squeezing Akihito’s ass against his groin so hard, there would be small purple bruises from Asami’s hipbones in his butt the next day. 

When he released his hold on his torso, the boy bent forward, falling limply onto the bed, his arms splayed out on either side of him as Asami continued to hold his ass high, pumping every last drop of seed into him, creaming his insides. Finally he withdrew, slowly and reluctantly, until his cock popped free of its warm cavernous home. Asami looked regretfully at the puffy ring of Akihito’s abused anus, one finger swirling around the rim, scooping up an errant drop of semen and depositing it back inside where it belonged. He placed the boy on the center of the bed, folding up his long legs under him so his swollen, red, cum-fulled hole was lifted high and predominantly displayed. A fat golden buttplug was pressed inside to keep Asami’s cum from escaping. When he was awake and Asami made him wear it, Akihito always complained about the weight of the plug inside him, that it was too heavy... it was solid gold, afterall. But it looked so pretty inside his sweet pink hole, that Asami ignored his protests. Nothing but the best for his Princess.

He collected him with the sheets, stripping the filth covered bedclothes off the bed and lifting them and Akihito up in one bundle. The sheets he deposited in the laundry and the boy went back into the bathtub. He laid him gently, delicately, as if placing the finest china on a table. Asami lifted his long hair and spread it over the back lip of the bathtub as he propped the back of his head gently on the hard porcelain.

The unconscious boy’s lashes were closed over his pink, flushed cheeks, his mouth lax and lips parted. Asami couldn’t help but kiss those pretty, unresponsive lips. He kissed him forcibly, pushing his tongue inside unresisting flesh, exploring his mouth as it flopped open. He did what Akihito wouldn't let him do when he was awake, he licked his teeth, his throat, his cheeks and even his palate before finally pulling back, tearing himself away as the hot water began to flow. He tested the temperature carefully and placed the plug in the drain so that it began to collect and pool around Akihito’s legs and backside. 

He brushed his fingers over the boy’s limp, sleeping cheek, “I’ll be right back Princess.”

By the time the bed was cleaned and refreshed, the water was up to Akihito’s nipples. Asami turned it off and knelt. He started by kissing his right foot, as he always did. Then each part of the boy, he bathed gently and thoroughly, washing his skin until it was smooth, soft and clean. He then drained the dirty water from the tub and refilled it with fresh, rose-scented water. His attention to detail was painstaking and no part was left untended, before Asami then cleaned himself. Finally, he lifted him from the water, letting it stream down the sleeping boy’s long legs and arms where they lay loosely over Asami’s strong biceps. He was wrapped in a plush bath sheet, fully enveloped and every last droplet of water was wiped from his skin before Asami sat down with the limp little boy in his lapin his large armchair. 

Like a cherished doll, he brushed Akihito’s golden curls where they had become tangled, gently separating the unruly locks and smoothing them until his hair shone like silk. He gathered the curls into two bundles, combed neatly and tied behind Akihito’s ears in two sweet pigtails with bows of old pink silk. He kissed his temples and then laid him out on the bed, limp and relaxed. Akihito’s naked chest rose and fell in peaceful repose. His legs were lifted and spread wide and bent at the knee so that Asami could slid his diaper underneath his little bottom. He would leak from his little hole all night and get himself all messy, and that just wouldn’t do. His baby needed his diaper to keep his bed dry, so he would feel comfortable when he woke up. Asami rubbed thick nappy creme all over the young boy’s puffy hole where it was so painfully stretched around the large buttplug. Asami’s fingers smeared it in the creases of his bottom and thighs, working the sweet chamomile scented lotion into Akihito’s skin. He got rashes so easily and so Asami knew he had to be very thorough. Once he was done applying the nappy cream, he tucked Akihito’s limp member back into its little cage and closed the padlock. The material of the diaper was thick and soft, but Akihito’s cock was still much too sensitive to rub against it all night. The cock cage would protect him and the nappy cream would soothe the irritation of his poor little hole.

When he was done, Asami removed the plug, gently pulling it free of Akihito’s slack bottom. The boy’s smooth brow wrinkled in an uncomfortable frown as the thickest part of the plug tugged against the inside of his rim, but the muscles were soft and stretched and released it with a soft ‘pop’ after not too much tugging. Almost immediately, his gaping asshole began to drool cum out onto fluffy fabric of the diaper. Asami dipped his finger inside and picked up some of the thick, milky cum, kept warm by Akihito’s hot insides. He rubbed it coaxingly over Akihito’s soft lips, coating them with shine, nudging them until Akihito began to suckle at the tip of his finger, taking his seed into his mouth. 

Asami’s golden eyes gleamed. His baby was hungry. Daddy would take care of that.

He pulled the front and back of the diaper up before fastening the tape attached to the backside of the diaper onto the front of the diaper. Then, he positioned Akihito’s cockcage and testicles and repeated it on the other side. The white puffy diaper covered his crotch and bottom. Asami tugged on the elastic legholes to make sure they weren’t pinching him anywhere and then laid him on his side, curled up in fetal position with a pillow placed under his sweet sleeping head. He looked so much like an angel when he slept. Asami gave one last affectionate tug to Akihito’s adorable pigtail before tucking him in and leaving to prepare his bottle.

The mix was Asami’s own; some protein powder, a hint of brown sugar and lots of milk of course, thick and creamy and filled with fats, proteins, vitamins and minerals. He warmed it to slightly above room temperature and then it was time to add his own special ingredient. Asami groaned as he pumped his cock back to thickness, jerking and gripping it almost roughly, without finesse. He milked it, squeezing it until thick stream of white jizz spurted from the peehole into the bottle, the semen quickly mixing and disappearing into the milk. Daddy’s have to provide for their babies; sweet milk to sooth their hungry tummies.

Asami swirled his special milk in the bottle until it was thoroughly mixed and then screwed on a nubby rubber nipple. 

He wrapped Akihito in a soft blanket, lifting him up and cradling him in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth. Instinctively, the boy cuddled closer to Asami’s chest, snuggling into the warmth and safety of his arms, his blond head resting on Asami’s strong shoulder. 

Impulsively, he kissed that cute button nose and smiled as Aki wiggled it in his sleep. He pressed the nipple of the bottle to his lips and for a moment he had to chase his mouth around as Akihito turned his head away from it. But Asami was persistent and soon his submerged suckling reflexes surfaced and his full lips instinctively latched onto the nipple of the bottle. He began to suck the warm fluid, his pretty lips pursing and releasing around the rubber nipple, his cheeks hollowing as Asami raised the bottle to help him drink it and the milk trickled down his tongue and throat. Asami’s golden eyes glowed as he watched Akihito drink his thick cum, nourishing him, taking his essence deep inside where it would become a part of him. 

His feeding slowed until he was almost done and Akihito’s mouth released the nipple when his tummy was full, his lips parting and going lax. A thin line of milky drool slid down his chin and Asami mopped his mouth with the blanket. Akihito burped softly into his neck and Asami smiled feeling the warm, wet puff of air on his neck before he repositioned him. Long legs splayed rather awkwardly over Asami’s thighs as he laid Akihito’s chest on his, his head in the crook of his neck. He patted his back, gently thumping it until the boy let out another soft belch.

"Good boy," he said, rubbing Akihito’s slender back in circles under the blankets, up and down, feeling the knots of his spine, tracing it down until he met the hem of the diaper covering his padded bottom, "Sweet boy, my baby boy. Daddy loves you so much. So much.”

Asami’s voice broke on the last word and he bowed his dark head, clutching Akihito even closer, squeezing him tightly. 

His poor broken baby. 

-


	18. Flashback

The cold knot of tension in Asami’s chest unfurled the moment he opened his bedroom door and a thin line of light cascaded over the little bundle laying in the middle of his bed. His bed. His boy. His perfect Princess. He stood there for a moment looking at him, watching the way that tiny body made the covers rise and fall. Love welled up inside him and a fierce protectiveness that was almost painful. His. Akihito was his.

It mattered not to Asami that he was a child; little more than a baby. As his father had said, all boys became men. The beautiful boy would grow. Until then, he would be his father, his brother and his friend. And one day he would be old enough for Asami to love him completely, in every way possible for one human being to love another. One day, he would be his lover.

Asami moved silently, closing the door quietly and undressing to his black boxers with the lights off, careful not to wake the sleeping baby. He needn’t have worried so. Akihito was deeply asleep, small arms wrapped around the teddybear Asami had given him. It was already his precious treasure and he refused to let go of it, even in sleep. His long dark lashes were closed over his plush baby cheeks and his tiny thumb was stuck between his perfect little pink lips. He suckled quietly on it, slurping softly it, denied the comfort of the pacifier he was used to.

The little boy had fallen asleep in the limo on the way home, splayed in Asami’s lap and still clutching his teddybear. He had laid him on the bed, tucked him in and gone to face his father. Gone to kill his father. He had known how it would go. He had gone with a round in the chamber. His father would never accept the little boy’s presence. Asami knew he would never see past the boy’s blood and his own hatred of the Takabas. His hatred would infuse the compound and the men who were loyal to him. There would never be a day or a moment that he would be able to relax and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Akihito was safe. Asami had promised that no one would ever make Akihito feel ashamed of who he was ever again. He had promised to keep him safe. To love him. He would keep that promise, no matter the cost.

Akihito was worth it.

Asami leaned down to brush a kiss over those sweet honey curls and inhaled deeply. His scent was intoxicating, but there was another scent overlayed with it. Musky and pungent. The man’s large hand felt underneath Akihito’s bottom and belly gently, noting the dampness of his nappy and the bedding. The little one had wet himself. Asami smiled tenderly and tugged the teddybear from his tiny hands before it could get wet. Akihito whimpered and reached out for his missing plushie but strong hands rolled the baby into Asami’s warm arms before he could protest. Moments later Akihito’s thumb had found its way back into his mouth and he was sound asleep again. Asami smirked.

He turned on the lights in the bathroom, laying the boy on the thick bathroom mat and unbuttoning Akihito’s nappy. He removed it with some difficulty from his arms and then deftly pulled it off his legs.

Asami froze when he saw what was underneath.

In the dim light of the crawlspace he had an idea of the bruising on Akihito’s tiny body, but in the bright light of the bathroom…. there were welts all over the backs of his legs as if from a belt, there were handprints all over his buttocks and thighs, scratches on his arms, rug burn as if he had been dragged on his back, even his nipples were black and blue. All over his body was evidence of chronic, systematic abuse; old injuries covered by new. Horror rose in him and his throat burned with bile.

The baby snuffled in his sleep and it snapped Asami out of what was becoming a full on rage spiral. He touched his cheek gently, reverently. How was it possible they had not broke him? How was it possible for a child to go through what Akihito had been through and remain so open and affectionate, trusting, sweet and joyful? How?

Golden eyes scanned his fragile little body, so delicate and helpless, categorizing every injury, but it wasn’t until he got to his feet that Asami began to silently weep. On the bottom of his tiny right foot, so perfect and pretty and pink, there was a wound that broke his strong heart.

It was a small perfect red circle, pale in the center with a bloom of color in an upraised ring. From the edged were pinkish striations. It was old and the scar looked rather like a flower. Asami knew exactly what it was from.

Someone had extinguished a cigarette on the bottom of Akihito’s foot as a baby.

It was a scar inflicted on him before he could remember it by a father who hated him from the moment he was born, marking him for death.

Asami moaned in torment and bent his dark head to that little foot, kissing it and wishing with all his heart that the power of his love, could make it disappear. He wondered how many more scars were under his perfect skin, hidden deep in his psyche?

Now more than ever Asami realized the importance of his arrogant words to his father; _He’ll remember what I tell him to remember._ He could never fix Akihito’s past, never erase the pain and the abuse he had suffered or the necessary, but tragic end of his mother. He couldn’t fix the past but he could erase it. He could give Akihito a new past, a different past. Akihito was young enough and his memories were still malleable. The young boy was so very impressionable.

Asami would use that to his advantage. He would mix just enough of the truth into his stories that Akihito would believe it. He would make him forget about his sadistic father, monstrous brothers and broken mother. Asami would paint him a new picture. One where he had no siblings, where his father had doted on him and his mother had been happy and loved. A past where his parents had died in a tragic fire, that Akihito was too young to remember. And he was too young to remember any of the truth. In time, his real memories would fade and with constant repetition, the stories Asami told him would become his past. It would be the first of many gifts Asami would bestow on his beloved Princess.

Akihito’s life would be perfect from this moment forward, in every way possible. Asami would make sure of it.

He brushed his fingers down the sleeping child's face gently, murmuring to himself, "Hurry, and forget..."

He opened the faucet and let the bath water run, playing with the temperature until he felt it was just right, all while Akihito lay sprawled out on the bath mat, sucking his thumb and snoring softly. The teen wanted to laugh when he placed the little one’s naked body in the warm water and he still didn’t wake up. Akihito frowned in his sleep and wiggled his naked bottom on the tub, but he calmed back down as the warm water washed over him and Asami’s gentle hands began to wash the dirt and filth from his body. His mother had wiped his face clean but Akihito’s tender skin was still covered in the dirt he had picked up in the crawlspace when his brother’s had stripped him and pinned him on the floor. He could still see the bruises where their fingers had bit into his skin. Asami washed each mark, painstakingly cleansing them with his fingers, pressing kisses to his small hands and feet. He held him propped up with his strong arm as he tilted Akihito’s head back and rinsed his golden hair. A trickle of water escaped and ran down his cheek and that was when the boy finally opened his eyes. Asami laughed at the surprised expression on his sweet face. For a moment he looked frightened and disoriented, but then Akihito immediately smiled in recognition, “Hello Daddy”

Asami smiled down at him, “Hey baby.”

The little boy looked down at the soapy water around him and splashed happily in it. It was obvious he enjoyed taking baths. Asami smiled and continued to wash him as the little one played with the bubbles. It was much easier now that he didn’t have to worry about supporting the baby’s body and protecting his neck.

Akihito suddenly looked up at him, his blue eyes round and full of worry. His little voice was soft and sweet, “Daddy? I have to go tinkle.”

Asami kissed his wet curls and helped him stand in the tub. The water around his little feet was soapy and dirty. He was going to need to be rinsed anyway. And the toilet was much too large for Akihito to use safely. He needed a little baby potty. There were so many things he needed to provide for his precious, but that would have to wait until the morning.

Akihito was started to squirm and wiggle from one foot to the other, his fine pale flesh glistening in the light. It was wet and slick and beautiful. He was hiding his genitals with his hands, there was a hint of shame in his eyes.

“D-Daddy?” He called uncertainly. His blue eyes were fixed on Asami for direction and reassurance, pleading for guidance. Never before had Asami felt such awesome responsibility. He pulled Akihito’s hands away from his privates and chastised him gently, “No hiding from your Daddy, my precious Princess, every part of you is perfect.”

Akihito looked at him in concern, “Even my… peepee?”

The trauma of the afternoon was still fresh in his mind; the shame and the embarrassment his brothers had made him feel about his own lovely body.

Asami kissed his clean cheek, “Yes baby, especially your penis.”

Akihito smiled in relief but then he frowned again, “Daddy, I really need to go potty now.”

“Ok baby boy, you can go then.”

Akihito looked at him incredulously, “Right here?”

Asami nodded, “Right here.”

The small child hesitated.

Asami smiled comfortingly at him, “Don’t you trust me?”

He nodded, hesitating but for a moment more and then obediently voided on himself, urine dribbling from his infantile cock and snaking in rivulets down his chubby little legs. Akihito maintained eye contact with Asami as he peed and then sighed in innocent relief as he emptied his bladder on himself in front of his Daddy. Asami hummed in pleasure at the trust, submission and lack of shame the child displayed. It was a good start. There was to be no shame between them. No secrets. They belonged to each other now.

The darkhaired man lifted a soapy sponge once the child was finished and began to run it gently over his groin and thighs, lathering his creamy skin once again. Akihito shivered.

“Feel good baby?” Asami gently lifted his little uncut penis and rubbed the soft sponge between his legs and over his undeveloped testicles making sure to get rid of all the sticky fluid in the creases and folds of his body.

Blue eyes watched Asami’s hands as the little boy nodded honestly, “It feels good when you touch me there.”

“Thats good baby boy. Its supposed to feel nice. But I want you to remember something; _only_ Daddy can touch you here, Akihito. Only I can touch your peepee and your bottom. Not anybody else. And if someone _ever_ tries to touch you there again, no matter who it is, I want you to run away and tell me right away. Do you understand?'

Akihito nodded obediently and Asami placed a soft kiss on his forehead, before soaping him up again, rubbing his poor bruised back gently and stroking the curve of his round backside. Akihito swayed a little on his tiny feet, yawning tiredly and Asami tucked him against his own legs, letting the boy lean on him as he rinsed him with warm water from the detachable sprayer, rinsing the last of the dirt and his old life down the drain.

He used a hand towel to dry his hair and Akihito giggled as his head was enveloped by Asami’s vigorously rubbing hands. He then scooped him up in a large fluffy towel and carried him Princess style to the bed.

Asami stopped in surprise, noting that he had left the bedroom door open. Kirishima had stopped by and left the nightdress and diapers Asami had requested earlier on the foot of the bed. In doing so, he had obviously noticed the condition of the sheets and taken it upon himself to rectify the situation. The bed covers were clean and fresh and folded neatly. Asami smirked and made a mental note to make sure Kirishima got a raise.

He laid Akihito on the bed on his back, handing him his teddy bear to distract him while Asami opened the package of diapers and tried to figure out the logistics of putting a diapers on a wiggling child. Akihito thought it was a terribly fun game to squirm and bend his legs to make it as difficult as possible, but the moment Asami asked him to stop he did, pulling his legs towards his chest and innocently exposing his buttocks and privates completely, spreading his thighs so Asami could slip the thick diaper beneath his hips.

Akihito was very patient with him. The first time, Asami realized the diaper was backwards. The second time, he did it too tight and Akihito cried when it pinched his tender skin. The last time he got it right, smoothing the tape down on his hips so the padded diaper sat just right over his little fanny. But then he noticed the cream sitting next to the stack of diapers and picked it up, sighing when he realized what it was for. Off went the third diaper and Asami smoothed the lotion between Akihito’s buttcheeks, around his tiny puckered hole and over his infantile genitals. He heated up the cream as best he could with his fingers but it was still a little cold on the boy’s sensitive flesh and Aki squirmed and whimpered in distress. Asami placed the fourth diaper quickly and easily, learning from his mistakes and then picked the little one up in his arms. He decided not to bother with the nightdress and tossed it aside. He would keep Akihito warm enough.

They curled together under the covers and Asami smiled as Akihito reached for him grabbing a handful of the skin on his chest almost painfully as he needfully tried to gather both Asami and his teddy as close to him as possible.

He patted the little one on his padded fanny, squeezing him tight in reassurance.

Akihito kissed him in return, his little hands clutching at his neck, the teddy bear falling untended to the bed as Akihito’s soft warm lips pressed against Asami’s. He crawled up to find a comfortable spot and tucked his head into the crook of Asami’s neck, wrapping his childish arms around him, his breath soft and warm on Asami’s skin, “Daddy, will you tell me a bedtime story?”

He had to swallow the emotion that welled up in his throat before he was able to respond. This boy. This precious, precious boy. His whole world.

“Of course Princess.”

Asami did not know any fairytales. He had only the barest knowledge of them from popular culture, but could not remember ever having been told one. He had no mother that he remembered and he had never been tucked into bed. But Akihito had asked for a story. And that meant he would have one.

The teen cleared his throat. He did, at the very least, know how all fairytales were supposed to begin, “Once upon a time…”

He carded his fingers through Akihito’s damp curls and began his tale, mixing truth with fantasy, “There was a beautiful Princess with the golden hair and eyes of blue. The Golden Princess was the most beautiful Princess in the world and everyone who saw her wanted her for their own. The King and Queen loved her very much and were very protective of her, but one day, they died in a tragic accident. Frightened of all the greedy people that wanted to take her away; the Golden Princess ran into the forest to hide and there she met a young Dragon caught in a hunter’s trap. The Dragon was large and covered in midnight black scales. He had eyes that glowed like fire and an enormous mouth full of razor sharp teeth, just perfect for eating up sweet helpless Princesses. The Black Dragon was a monster. He was a wild, hungry beast used to killing everyone who got in his way. He was an ugly and dreadful creature with no love in his heart for anyone, but so powerful that with one footstep; the entire world shuddered in terror.”

Akihito trembled in his arms a little bit and Asami softened the tone of his voice, “But the Princess didn’t see that. She saw past his scales and his fangs and his burning gaze to the emptiness in his heart. She saw that the Dragon was hurting and afraid, trapped by his enemies. The brave little Princess came right up to the Dragon and set him free of the trap. He stared at her in surprise, for she wasn’t at all afraid of him. She saw that he was injured and that he was bleeding and the Princess bowed her head to kiss the Dragon’s fearsome paw. He watched her, knowing that his claws were long as a man’s arm and sharp as a knife and with one swipe, he could kill the Princess if he wanted to.”

The boy gasped and his eyes flew wide in fear, “Did he Daddy? Did he kill the Princess?”

Asami shook his head and continued, the enthusiastic response of his small but attentive audience causing him to warm to his story, “No baby, he didn’t kill her. The Dragon rose to his full terrifying height and stared down at the Princess. His cold heart was not swayed by her beauty. He had known many beautiful Princesses and had gobbled them all up, for they were vain and selfish creatures and he disliked them immensely. But the Dragon saw that not only was this Princess beautiful on the outside, she was also kind and sweet and selfless and very, very beautiful on the inside, which was the most important place for Princesses to be beautiful.”

He poked Akihito’s soft belly meaningfully and continued once Akihito was done giggling, “The Dragon realized that he loved her. But he wasn’t sure what love was. His whole life, he had known only anger and power and fire. How could a Dragon fall In love? And who could ever love him in return? He was a cruel, hideous monster who had only killed and destroyed. But the Dragon always took what he wanted and what he wanted was the tiny Golden Princess. So he took her away with him and he locked her in a tall tower where no one else could get to her so that she would be only his. It was the only way he knew how to love her.”

The little blond’s eyes drooped closed and his breathing began to slow. Asami dropped his voice, making it soft and soothing, “For a time, the Princess and the Dragon were very happy together. He gave her everything she needed. The little Princess was safe and the Dragon was happy knowing that she was his. She grew in grace and beauty, year after year, until she was a young woman, full of hopes and dreams. She wanted to go out into the world, but the Dragon wanted her to stay in the tower, where she was safe, where he could love her, the very best he knew how. She shouted and cried but the Dragon would not hear her pleas. He loved her far too much to ever let her go. One day the Dragon fell asleep and the Princess ran away.”

Akihito was snoring softly now, a teensy bit of drool wetting the side of Asami’s neck. Asami went quiet, not wishing to disturb the boy’s slumber, but then he wiggled and protested Asami’s silence sleepily, “Have to get to ‘Happily Ever After’ Daddy. S’not finished until the ‘Happily Ever After’….”

Asami smiled and hugged him close, “Alright then….The Princess ran away and hid in the mountains and when the Dragon awoke, he was furious. He roared so loud that every leaf in the forest fell. The tree branches became barren as in the winter and the flames from his lips burned them all, but still he could not find the Princess. His eyes were filled with fire and bloody tears ran down his black cheeks. His dark heart was filled with pain. When she saw that, the Princess wanted to go back to him, but it was too late. The King of the Mountains had seen her beauty and he wanted her for his own. He took her down into the caves where the Dragon could not find her. The Princess was very clever, but she did not understand the Mountain King’s magic. He placed a curse on her whereby if ever she returned to the overworld, she would fall into an eternal sleep. The Princess did not know this and she ran away. The moment she saw the blue sky above, she fell down into a deep sleep and when the Dragon finally found her, he thought she was dead because he could not wake her.

His grief knew no bounds. The rain stopped and his fire spread across the land; from shore to shore, all grass burnt and all was aflame. The people cried out and the kingdom mourned, and a great Wizard came to the Dragon and promised to wake the Princess. He desired the Dragon’s riches and his power and promised that if the Dragon gave him what he wished, he would give him back his Princess. The Dragon did as he asked but what he didn’t know was that the Wizard was no Wizard at all but rather a Magician whose fame was built on lies and trickery. He knew he could not truly break the Princess’s curse and once the Dragon gave him what he wanted, he threw the Princess in the Great River and let the water wash her body away. The Magician told the Dragon that she had awoken and run away from him again, choosing to throw herself off a cliff rather than return to him. At this, the Dragon’s great heart broke into a thousand pieces and he despaired. The flames in his eyes died and he returned to his mountain home and fell into a deathlike sleep; unable to live in a world without his Princess.

The Princess, of course, was not dead, her body washed downstream and all the animals of the forest protected her. The swans held her golden head with their white wings and the fish took turns pushing her to the surface to breath. On and on she floated until she came to rest in the dark marsh among the lilies nearby where the hermit lived. But this was no ordinary Hermit. This Hermit was a Wizard. A true Wizard who became tired of the petty concerns and requests of people, he had come to live alone deep in the forest. He saw the beautiful Princess and realized her curse and woke her from the spell. As soon as the Princess awoke, she remembered her Dragon. Though the Wizard loved her and pleaded with her to stay with him, she would not be swayed and finally he relented, realizing that her heart could never be his. He sent her away on a magical white stag who ran day and night without stopping.

When she returned and found her Dragon defeated, his golden eyes closed and his head on the ground, the Princess was distraught. She cried and wailed and beat on his strong chest, but he would not be moved. She held his great snout and cried her poor little heart out. She cried and she cried and her pure tears ran down and soaked his cheeks. They ran into his mouth and when he tasted the tears of his beloved Princess, shed out of love for him, he awoke and took her into his strong arms. And as he kissed her lips, she realized that he was no longer the fearsome Dragon she remembered from her childhood days. Because of the love of his Princess, the Dragon had at long last, become a Prince. And they lived…”

Akihito interrupted sleepily around the thumb tucked into his mouth, “Happiwy Ever After.”

Asami kissed his golden curls, “Thats right Princess. Happily Ever After.”

-


	19. Humpty Dumpty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medical information included only to enhance a work of fiction, not educate. Thank you.

Asami had been so careful with him, careful to erase his memories of the past; the abuse of his brothers, the hatred and neglect of his father and the passive, destroyed mother of his childhood. He erased the names and the faces and the events.

Consciously, Akihito remembered nothing of his childhood. He had been so young, it had been easy to do, to tell him stories about his past. About his loving parents. About how he had been an only child, loved and adored. How his parents had died in a fire and how Asami’s family had adopted him. He mixed in just enough truth with the lies that, after a time, Akihito’s young mind couldn’t differentiate the fact from the fiction. His memories were the ones Asami had given him, sweet memories of a happy childhood and doting parents. His brothers, he had forgotten completely.

Yes, in that respect, Asami had been successful and he had hoped rewriting his past would be enough to save him.

But it wasn’t.

The abuse of Akihito’s childhood had burrowed into him much, much deeper. It was like a splinter that Asami couldn’t get to, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how deep he dug.

Over Akihito’s lifetime, Asami had had to become an expert on the psychology of early childhood abuse victims and he understood it well. When trauma and stress happen early in life, the effects were far more profound and long-lasting than later in life. Trauma and early negative experiences affect the development and even structure of a child’s brain. The structure and function of the brain developed differently when compared to individuals who weren’t traumatized as young children. Elevated stress levels from consistent abuse led to a release of higher levels of cortisol which damaged to the hippocampus. This affected a child’s learning and memory and also changed their reaction to stress later in life. A study examining the motor, language, and cognitive development of abused children showed that their function was significantly lower than non-maltreated children. Abused children displayed poor self-control and a lack of ability to regulate their emotions. Brains scans showed that the medial prefrontal cortex, amygdala, and other neural circuitry of the brain were damaged in development, changing their ability to handle and process emotion.

Even after the abuse ended, the brain showed a sustained and pervasive stress response as the child grew, continuing to secrete high levels of cortisol. The chemical had a long-term effect on immune function putting them at high risk for autoimmune diseases as well as significant psychological disturbances. The biological and chemical changes in the brain were even more profound if the abuse was early, pervasive, and severe.

Which Akihito’s was.

It had changed him, broken him so young and at a level too deep to fix. The boy suffered from a deep seated self-hatred, severe body dysmorphic disorder, hidden below his consciousness. His emotions fluctuated wildly and his ability to handle stress was almost nonexistent. The slightest trauma or emotional upset could send him spiralling into a dissociative state, sometimes for hours or even days at a time.

During these periods Akihito would remember almost nothing that he saw or experienced. His recognition of self entirely broke down and he divorced from his own personal physicality by sensing his body sensations, feelings, emotions and behaviors as not belonging to him.

It was during these moments that the darkest and most sinister elements of his pathology emerged. He felt no pain in the dissociative state, did not recognize his body as his own or comprehend the seriousness of the damage he was doing to it.

It started in his early teens.

As a child, he sometimes would dissociate for periods of a time, regressing into more infant-like behaviors when he felt stressed or threatened. In his mind he would become younger, often wanting to be held like a baby, wetting himself and wanting to wear diapers or be fed by a bottle. It made him feel safe and secure and Asami indulged him. Eventually the boy would snap out of it with almost no memory of what had happened. But when Akihito hit puberty, everything changed.

Asami never forgot the day he came home to Akihito in a bathtub full of blood, naked, rocking slowly back and forth, smiling and shaving his legs. Akihito had become stressed by the changes his body was undergoing. He was repulsed by the hair that was growing on him. Disgusted by it. He found it unfeminine and hideous. He had taken one of Asami’s razors and shaved it all off. But he hadn’t stopped with the hair. He had continued, slowly stripping the skin from his legs until he bled.

He hadn’t seemed to feel a thing, he just smiled as Asami, glassy eyed and vacant. And later, when he emerged from the dissociative state, he remembered nothing. Expensive laser treatments had completely eliminated the scarring, and also ensured he would never grow hair again on his body.

After that, all sharp objects were kept under lock and key and cameras were installed throughout the penthouse.

It wasn’t enough.

Each time Akihito became stressed, he would dissociate and hurt himself; burning his hands on the stove, stabbing himself with pens, dipping his fingers in scalding hot water. There was a part of him that believed he deserved it. That he was inferior, that he was wrong, that he should be punished. Scars upon scars, layered onto his psyche by abuse perpetrated before he could remember it.

Asami had been so focused on protecting Akihito from the outside world, but the one Akihito really needed protection from, was himself.

That was when Asami began controlling him.

It was much like a dominant and submissive relationship, but all-consuming and completely nonconsensual. Akihito didn’t give up his control, it was taken from him. Asami controlled every aspect of Akihito’s life, like a child. He organized his days, kept them tightly regimented and scheduled. The predictability bored the active, imaginative boy to tears, but the stability kept him safe.

Each meal was proportioned and delivered and Akihito was allowed access to only one at a time, to keep him from self harming; binging and then purging. He was not allowed to cook, as the kitchen was only for display. None of the burners worked, the microwave was removed after Akihito used it to boil water that he poured over his developing chest, repulsed by the muscles he found unseemly. Even the hot water from the tap was regulated down to a safe temperature. There was no glass to be found in the apartment, only plastic, and all of the utensils were designed for children. Only spoons.

Asami laid out Akihito’s clothing personally, each and every day. He chose soft, delicate fabrics, skirts and dresses. He was allowed no belts or sashes that Aki might strangle himself with and the closet was kept locked except when he was supervised directly and of course, Akihito was always supervised indirectly. There were cameras covering every inch of the apartment. When Asami was away, they were monitored twenty four seven by guards, with paramedics on stand by. No matter how safe the apartment was, Akihito could always find ways to hurt himself. Hitting himself, banging his head onto tile, pulling out his hair… the moment it began, the guards would administer a sedative and Asami would be called in.

The boy’s hatred of himself and his body centered on his genitals as he entered puberty. Deep inside, he still felt confusion at their existence. Akihito largely identified as a female and the presence of his penis and testicles was both confusing and upsetting to him, especially as they began to grow larger and his sexual needs awakened and much of his world began to center on those needs. He feared rejection, felt guilty about his sexuality, was convicted of his inferiority. He was stuck in a limbo between male and female, neither of which he could fully identify with.

Akihito wasn’t aware of any of these things consciously. But he began to act out, aggressive masturbating, mashing his testicles, abusing his genitals, which he unconsciously saw as the source of his confusion

Asami would find him crying, his poor little penis red and chafed, his testicles bruised and sore.

Akihito never remembered hurting himself. He never remembered any of it. He felt no pain during his episodes, but when he awoke from his psychosis, he would be horrified, terrified by his injuries, having no memory of how he had received them. Having no realization that he inflicted it on himself.

They had tried everything. Drugs, therapy, hypnosis, age regression therapy. Nothing worked. Nothing eliminated his unconscious urge to self harm. Nothing quelled the attacks except total and complete submission, having his control completely removed, transferring ownership of his body completely to hands he both loved and trusted. Asami’s.

In the traditional, healthy domination- submission relationship, it was actually the sub who held all the power. They chose to submit and obey, bestowing the gift of control on their Dom. It was in essence, they who gave their Dom what they needed and then in turn, the Dom would give them what they needed. But the truth was, it was all in the Sub’s hands. They were the Gatekeepers. At any moment, they could revoke the gift they had given. At any moment, they could use their safeword and end the scene. If the safeword was not respected, it was no longer domination and submission, it was rape and assault, pure and simple. So the purest form of BDSM, was in essence, a fantasy of being dominated. The sub never truly gave up their control.

A hollow fantasy of submission was not what Akihito needed.

He needed to be stripped of his free will completely. It couldn’t be a game to him, it couldn’t be play acting or roleplaying for it to be effective. He had to truly and utterly lose himself to Asami’s hand. The scenes went until Akihito passed out. There were no time limits, no safewords. When Akihito’s body surrendered and his mind shut down, that was when Asami knew he had gotten what he needed. It was necessary. He had to be left with no control over his body, his mind or his heart. Like a doll. It was then, only then, that Akihito’s dissociative episodes disappeared. The only thing stronger than Akihito’s deep-seated selfhatred and confusion over his body was his love and respect for Daddy. And he would not damage Daddy’s possessions or harm that which Daddy had proclaimed as his.

Placing the cockcage on him was an act of desperation on Asami’s part to keep Akihito from harming his genitals. But the moment he placed it on him, declaring Akihito’s penis as belonging to him and off limits to Akihito, the boy’s obsession and confusion over the appendage disappeared. It wasn’t his any longer. It freed him. It was the happiest and most at peace Asami had seen him since entering puberty. What started as a one time thing, a temporary band-aid placed to protect him from self-harming became the lynchpin of Akihito’s treatment. The cockcage made him feel safe and protected, a constant subconscious reminder that his body belonged to Asami.

But it wasn’t enough. When Akihito was stressed or unhappy or anxious, his mind still occasionally dissociated and during those time, there was nothing Asami could do to keeping him from hurting himself other than restrain or sedate him. The larger and stronger Akihito got, the more dangerous it became, for both of them.

The greatest tragedy was that it wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t something he could control. As a child, the abuse had altered his brain during development. A 3-year-old's brain is optimized for learning, assimilating all the information it is given and using it to build their construct of the world. The brain adapts structurally to its environment, based on the stimuli it is given, attempting to become the best brain for a child's given surroundings. It was during this critical period that children developed their sense of self and emotional stability. It was during this most critical year that Akihito had been abused most severely and made to feel worthless, unloved, inferior, wrong and ugly. And he had deeply internalized that message. It became who he believed he was.

Also during that critical period, Akihito had been under incredible stress, living with an almost constant fight or flight reaction. The subiculum was the portion of the brain that regulated this response. For example, if the best thing to do in a stressful situation was run, the subiculum sent a signal shouting “flee” to the rest of the brain and body, bathing his brain in stress hormones to ensure survival of the organism. But, it was a response that was only intended to be a once-in-a-while thing; over and done with and then allowing the brain to return to equilibrium. When the subiculum was overactive during chronic high stress lasting for long periods of time, it produced toxic levels of neurotransmitters that actually killed brain cells, particularly in the hippocampus, which was the area of the brain that was in fact responsible for DOWNregulating the production of stress hormones by the subiculum. Long term stress destroyed the feedback loop, meaning that a small slight or injury could send Akihito’s stress hormones spiraling out of control. It meant that his brain was set chronically on high alert, like a soldier with PTSD, who panics at the smallest threat.

The only way of stopping the cascade was with dopamine release. The stress created a craving for dopamine which Akihito’s body was able to supply him with, but only as compensation for physical injury. Each time Akihito self harmed, his brain was immediately bathed in dopamine, the body’s natural pain reliever and ‘happiness hormone’. It was potent and it was addictive. Like a drug, it gave him an immediate sense of relief of the anxiety and stress. It was instant gratification, and the next time the feelings arose, Akihito’s subconscious remembered what had worked last time and went back to it, creating a cycle of self harm that was self perpetuated.

Had it been as simple as self harming, it may have been an easy thing to treat. But when combined with his forgotten past, dissociative episodes, post traumatic stress disorder, panic attacks, body dysmorphic disorder, transgender identity, sexual confusion and the fact that Akihito was completely unaware of any of those things on a conscious level…. it became impossible to untangle. Like a fly trapped in a spider’s web, the more Akihito struggled, the more entangled in his broken psyche he became. As an outsider, Asami could do nothing, but watch his Princess hurt. So he joined him in the web. Not as a fly, but as the spider. He wove a web of his own creation around Akihito, trapping him, but also securing him, cradling him.

The web he wove was one of loving control and domination, lifting Akihito high on a pedestal, combating his self esteem issues by making him feel continuously worshiped, valued, beautiful and adored while simultaneously enforcing his ownership throughout every moment of every day. He built the construct of a Princess and a Dragon; Akihito’s favorite story. Akihito was the Princess, which meant he saw himself as beautiful and precious. And he saw Asami as his Dragon, his protector, which made him feel safe but simultaneously owned and possessed. It was a simple psychological anchoring system Asami used to keep Akihito from dissociating, along with several triggers that he used to snap Akihito out of a stress spiral.

Anchoring referred to the process of associating an internal response with an external trigger so that the response could be quickly, and sometimes covertly, reaccessed. On the surface, it was similar to the conditioning technique used by Pavlov to create a link between the hearing of a bell and salivation in dogs. By associating the sound of a bell with the act of giving food to his dogs, Pavlov found he could eventually just ring the bell and the dogs would start salivating, even though no food was given. In the behaviorist's stimulus-response conditioning formula, however, the stimulus was always an environmental cue and the response was always a specific behavioral action. Overtime, the response became reflexive and was not a matter of choice. The process of establishing an anchor simply meant using behavioral conditioning to associate two experiences together in time and then strengthening that association with constant repetition.

Each time Asami called him Princess, it was a reminder of who he was and a way of centering him in the present. When Akihito called him Daddy, it was Akihito’s way of acknowledging Asami’s ownership. The question, “Do you trust me Princess?” wasn’t a question at all. It was an anchor. Asami had began asking it back when Akihito was a small boy, in moments of peace and contentment, when Akihito was his happiest. Years of repetition meant that just asking the question brought back years of safety and security, of being held in Asami’s arms. It was a reminder to Akihito that yes, he trusted him, completely. At the time, it had been unintentional conditioning. It was just Asami wanting Akihito to associate feelings of safety with him, so that he would need him. But later, as he grew up, it became a valuable asset and Akihito had been trained to answer, “Yes Daddy.” The moment the answer was given, Akihito relaxed; reminded that Asami was the one in control and that there was nothing to fear. That he was safe and cherished and loved.

So loved.

Asami held Akihito in his arms, his dark head bowed, rocking him softly into the night. The boy stirred every so often, his smooth brow furrowing as his dream turned into a nightmare and he began to whimper in distress. Asami lifted his face, cupping the boy’s jaw in his hand and tipping his head back. Into the perfect shell of his ear, he whispered, “Do you trust me Princess?”

Immediately the lines in Akihito’s forehead relaxed and he murmured softly, “Yes Daddy.”

Even in sleep, the boy could not help but respond to his conditioning. Asami smiled tenderly at his trust.

Trust.

It was the foundation Asami’s web was built on. And at the core, were the lies he had told, replacing Akihito’s memories with the ones he wanted him to have. All of his life, Asami had been lying to him. The silken strings that held Akihito safe were strong when woven together…. but they were fragile by themselves. And all it would take was pulling one string too hard to begin to unravel it. The discovery of one lie was all it would take to destroy the trust between them. Just one lie. Like a house of cards, everything would collapse. It was his greatest weakness... and his greatest fear…. Akihito whimpered in his sleep and Asami realized he was squeezing him too tightly. He gentled his grip and soothed him, rousing himself from his dark thoughts. He would not allow it. He controlled everything Akihito read, everything he saw, everyone he spoke to. There was no chance of him discovering the truth about his past. He was safe. Asami would make it so.

Even if the person Akihito needed protecting from the most, was himself.

He brushed his fingers down the sleeping child's face gently, murmuring to himself, "Hurry, and forget..."

Asami stood, lifting the boy's lanky frame easily in his arms, a talent that came from years of practice. Akihito's golden head rested on Asami’s strong shoulder, his hair tied in two sweet pigtails that spun out as Asami turned slowly, dancing to a silent waltz that only he could hear and only he remembered.

Like a bride and groom on their wedding day, Asami circled the floor with his beloved baby in his arms, cherished and adored, spinning around and around and around, brushing the satin of Akihito’s sleeping cheek with a kiss and a fervent, whispered promise.... of Happily Ever After.

-


	20. Rapunzel

By the time Akihito woke the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. He could tell by the hint of greyness in the room. The expensive black out shades only let in the barest hint of morning light. The bed linens were of the highest thread count. The mattress was like sleeping on a cloud. If he had wanted to, he could have slept all day. And he might have. But the moment the boy began moving around, shifting into wakefulness, he was jolted by the sensation of something slick and wet in the crack of his ass. And it was cold.

Akihito bolted upright, grasping the covers and throwing them down his naked legs. He thought for a moment he had wet the bed….

“Mother. Fucker.”

He stared down at the white puffy fabric that enfolded his loins. A diaper. He was wearing a motherfucking diaper. Again. And this time, he swore he was going to castrate Asami fucking Ryuichi with his goddamned teeth.

Akihito ground his jaw closed and gingerly rolled from the bed, carefully not to make any sudden movements that would slosh the fluid around in the wet diaper any further. He slowly waddled to the bathroom, wincing at the feeling of the cold sticky mess sliding around in his behind and making the creases of his thighs stick together. He could feel it smashed into his asscrack, all the way up to his tailbone, where he had been laying in it all night. He stopped in midstep once he reached the bathroom. In the mirror was him, wearing a puffy diaper…. and pigtails. Akihito’s long blond hair was parted in two pigtails, tied with pink satin ribbons behind his ears. He looked like a giant frickin toddler.

He grunted in disgust and pulled the ribbons free, letting his long hair hang loose around his shoulders. It was a toss up as to which he wanted more; to get out of the messy diaper or to get his hair tied back out of his face. His hair won. Because he was going to want a bath as soon as he got the blasted thing off and then he would need his hair tied up.

The boy waddled over the vanity and leaned down to rummage through the drawers until he found a stash of hidden rubber bands, wincing as he stood upright again and some of the fluid in his diaper began to trickle down his thigh. So fucking gross. And it wasn’t pee. That he knew for sure. Perverted fucking bastard.

He stripped the tape off the sides, ripping the paper fabric and then slid it off his legs, careful to keep as much of the mess inside it as he could. The crotch and ass of it was literally FULL of a giant puddle of white cum. And there was more, coating the swell of his bottom, glueing the seam of his ass together, dripping steadily from his hole and smeared all over his thighs. Akihito boggled at the amount. Asami must have cum buckets last night. And then, after he had passed the fuck out, rather than just wiping it off him, Asami had put a goddamned diaper on him and made him lie in his semen all night. Akihito flushed at the remembrance of the night before. The things he had made him do…. Asami had been insane last night. He had been so dirty, so nasty, so… hungry.

Akihito shivered as his erection began to grow inside of its cage. But then he moved again and felt the cum squish in his ass and his arousal immediately faded. He thought they had discussed that he didn’t like it when Asami dressed him up while he was sleeping. He was a deep sleeper and Asami loved to take advantage. Akihito often woke up to find himself wearing things he hadn’t been when he fell asleep. Lingerie, teddys, dolly dresses, frilly aprons. All of which made him wonder just what the hell Asami had done to him while he was unconscious. Although, wondering wasn’t really necessary when Akihito found himself plugged up with gallons of cum up his ass. He had asked Asami not to plug him up anymore because it gave him severe diarrhea the next day. Aki supposed the diaper was Asami’s way of compromising. He rolled his eyes. Apparently, simply cleaning his cum off of him was just too much to expect. Asami wanted him covered in it.

He could smell chamomile though. At least he put that cream that soothed irritation on him first. It never felt to ease the rawness he often felt in his backside after a long night with Asami. Akihito opted for a shower instead of a bath, a bath would just smear it around. He scrubbed his skin under the steaming water with his favorite rosemary mint soap until it shone pink and clean and then he wrapped himself in a towel and went to look for his clothes.

They were laid out on the foot of the bed just as he expected. How Asami had time to run the fucking world AND pick out Akihito’s clothes every morning was beyond him. There was a lounging outfit and robe he knew was for later that afternoon and then a blouse and skirt with a pair of pink ballet flats. He could always tell a lot about what his day held by the clothes Asami laid out for him. If panties were included, the skirt was long and went to his knees, and the outfit was classy, like something a 1950’s housewife would wear, it meant he was going to have company. If Asami left him a miniskirt that barely covered his ass, a see-through croptop and no underwear or a T-back thong… it meant he would be home alone or Asami would be home. They had argued once about the skimpy outfits Asami liked him to wear in private and as a result, Akihito had spent the next week butt-naked. So obviously, he didn’t complain about the clothes Asami picked out anymore…. although it still chafed that he couldn’t have access to his closet to pick out his OWN outfits.

He gasped as he remembered what was also in the closet. The note.

The one that had started Asami’s sexual rampage last night. It was in his closet, tucked in with his garter belts in his dressing table. He flew to the door and tugged on the handle. It was locked. Of fucking course it was locked. All the locks on the doors of the penthouse were remotely controlled. Asami could remote lock and unlock any door in the penthouse that he wished, from the television room, to the gym, to Akihito’s closet door. He could even lock Akihito in any room he chose, at any moment. He had never done that of course, but he could and the thought always bugged Akihito. His closet door was always locked when Asami was out. That meant he was going to have to wait until Asami got home to read that note. Damn it. He should have put it somewhere else. Stupid.

And what if Asami didn’t let him dress up tonight? Except on special occasions, Asami always picked out his clothes. It could be days before he got a chance to read it and it was already driving him crazy. It was probably some stupid love note from a crazy person but still…. it was for him. Akihito never got notes from anyone. He never talked to anyone he wasn’t supposed to. There was a phone in the penthouse, but the only number it could dial was Asami’s. He wasn’t allowed access to the internet or mail or anything. So to have a letter from someone, that he wasn’t supposed to have, was thrilling. He wanted to read it so bad. But he would just have to wait. And maybe if he asked really nicely, Asami would let him dress up again tonight. And then he could read it while he was getting dressed. He would just have to be patient. Akihito sighed. Patience was NOT his forte.

He petulantly stuck his tongue out at the security camera that was tracking his every move and then went to dress. The shirt was pale pink silk, plain but with an elegant boatneck that showed off his collarbone and fluttery capsleeves. He wore it tucked into the nipped in waist of a coordinating floral skirt. It was a brighter pink but with large tea roses printed on it. It was a thicker silk and incredibly beautiful. The skirt had a built in petticoat to make it flouncy and it swished when he moved. Akihito found himself smiling and twisting his hips unconsciously and then stopped, frowning. He wasn’t a baby anymore. No matter how many diapers Asami tried to make him wear.

He slipped his feet into the dainty ballet shoes. The leather was buttery soft and felt fantastic on his feet. The outfit would have looked better with kitten heels or pumps but Asami wouldn’t let him wear heels too often, he said it was bad for his feet.

Akihito completed the look with the strand of creamy Mikimoto pearls around his slender throat. He then brushed his hair until it crackled and pushed it back with a pink headband. He didn’t have access to any cosmetics other than his favorite pink strawberry scented lipgloss which went straight into the pocket of his skirt after he slicked some over his full pink lips. Akihito loved pockets and so Asami made sure all of his skirts and dresses were made with pockets to carry things.

Energized by his pretty outfit, Akihito did one more twirl in front of the mirror and bounced into the kitchen. Even the perfectly arranged breakfast waiting for him on the table did nothing to dampen his spirits. It wasn’t the fact that there was a delicious, delightful breakfast waiting for him that generally bothered him. It was the fact that Akihito had no choice in it. Each meal was perfect. A perfect mix of protein, fruits, vegetables and carbohydrates, prepared by Asami’s personal chef, artfully arranged and so sinfully delicious each bite could melt in your mouth…. but what if Akihito wanted to eat pizza for breakfast? Or maybe have pancakes for dinner. He had liked cooking. But then one day Asami had taken everything out of the kitchen; all of the knives and cooking instruments and disconnected the microwave and stove. Akihito had asked why but Asami never offered any kind of explanation. He simply said Akihito didn’t need to cook anymore. And from that day on, each and every meal had been provided for him. It chafed, that Asami did not even trust him to cook for himself.

Its not like he would have cooked pancakes for dinner every night.... Just some nights.

Akihito sat at the table, folded the napkin in his lap and ate daintily. His manners were impeccable. He knew exactly how to hold his utensils, his fork held with the tines down, how to cut his meat so that the knife never scraped on the plate, to sip his tea, never gulp, to keep his elbows off the table. His posture was perfect, his every movement, like a dance. It was all, at this point, completely natural to him. The finest finishing schools in Europe often failed to bestow the sense of grace that came to Akihito naturally and his French tutor had given him the polish he lacked. Akihito might have been eating with the Queen of England across the table from him and even she would have found no fault with his manners.

As he ate, he read the note left beside the plate. It was written in Asami’s strong confident handwriting. Broad swipes of the pen clearly delineated who had written the note. It was definitely Asami’s hand. Kirishima’s penmanship was much neater, he always stayed carefully in between the lines of the paper. Asami wrote across them as if they did not exist. Akihito supposed for a man like Asami, lines didn’t exist. He certainly never respected any barriers Akihito tried to place between them.

Every morning it was the same; Asami was gone before he awoke and a note outlining the day’s schedule was placed beside his breakfast plate. Even when Asami was away on business, there always was a handwritten note. Akihito didn’t know how he had the time. But even as much as Asami irritated him, it still made him feel special that Asami always took the time to sit down and hand-write his morning notes. Especially since he never saw Asami write anything else. Everything was either dictated or typed. Except his notes to Akihito. It made them feel…. intimate.

_Good morning Princess_

_I trust you slept well and awoke refreshed._

There was a paragraph break there and Akihito could practically see the smirk in Asami’s golden eyes as he paused the pen on the page and an inkblotch formed. Akihito rolled his eyes before continuing.

_I have planned a light day for you to allow your beautiful body time to recuperate._

_Your tutor will be here at nine, this morning you will speak French exclusively. The day’s lessons will consist of mathematics and physics followed by one hour of watercolors and quiet meditation. After a light lunch, I have arranged a Anma massage after which you will take an hour long nap. After the nap, you will go for a rejuvenating swim. A snack will await you when you finish and then your vocal coach will be here at four. Don’t forget to do your warmup exercises before she arrives. Dinner will be served at five after which you may either watch television or play videogames to allow it your tummy to settle. Your dance instructor will be here at six thirty sharp to continue your instruction in the Viennese waltz. I look forward to seeing your progress._

_Votre père dévoué_  
 _Asami Ryuichi_

With the sign off, Akihito could feel his mind clicking over to French. Each day was a different language. Akihito could speak a multitude of languages; French, Spanish, English, Chinese, German, Russian, Hindi, Arabic and Bengali. Asami had started him when he was very young, with tutors speaking a different language every day. The schedule was certainly lighter and less regimented than usual. He was surprised not to see an hour of either yoga or Tai Chi in his schedule, even though the Anma massage sounded fantastic. Hardly a day went by without some form of meditative exercise, emphasizing mental restraint and control. Akihito would have much rather done a much more aggressive style of martial arts, like the ones he saw on TV sometimes. But Asami was most insistent that Akihito not participate in any activities which were stressful or promoted aggression. Nothing exciting or violent. There were times when Akihito could have sworn Asami was trying to bore him to death. He did perk up at the mention of being allowed some TV time, which he didn’t get everyday. Akihito loved video games.Of course they were all hand selected by Asami for content; nothing violent or stress inducing. They were all adventure games, RPGs, puzzle or strategy games. But Aki still loved the escape they offered.

Video games, movies and books; those were the only escape Akihito ever really had from his penthouse prison. His gilded cage.

The boy might have been lonely, but he was kept too busy to be focused on that. Each day was packed full of academics and activities. Even at only the age of eighteen, Akihito had achieved the equivalent of five university degrees and was now working on his sixth; an engineering degree. He was schooled in current events with an excellent grasp of politics, history and business. His keen mind was kept constantly active while his urge to create and express himself was satisfied with piano lessons, watercolor and oil painting, sculpture and photography. Asami kept every piece and to Akihito’s great embarrassment; they covered the walls of the enormous penthouse mansion. His physical needs for exercise were satisfied with a myriad of sports such as indoor tennis, swimming, Tai Chi, yoga, running and archery. Asami had even built him an indoor bowling lane. Akihito loved to hear the pins crash. Three times a week Akihito received ballroom dance lessons from one of the world’s premier ballroom dancers. He LOVED dancing. It made him feel so beautiful and free. Of course, he was only taught the female part, but that was ok. He didn’t have to think about what was coming next or worry about where they were going. All he had to do was trust and follow Asami’s lead. It was more fun that way.... although he really would have liked to lead, just once, to see what it was like...

Akihito was interrupted from his musings by a soft knock on the door. He tucked Asami's note into his pocket and popped the last bite of almond roasted strawberries into his mouth before going to answer it.

He bowed low to his tutor, a short plump woman in round glasses, “Bienvenue, Madame”

“Bonjour Mademoiselle” She bowed even lower in return.

That always bothered Akihito’s sense of etiquette a bit. She was older than he was and his teacher, so technically, her bow should have been much shallower. But in a way, she was bowing to Asami and Akihito understood that. His guards often practically fell on their faces bowing so low to him. But Akihito always knew it was really Asami they were showing respect to. It irritated him, but there was nothing he could do about it and it would have been silly to complain about something like that.

They chatted softly in French as he took her valise and escorted her to the sunny room that was used as his classroom. It was small but bright and full of color, pleasing to his esthetic and stimulating to the senses. It always smelled faintly of lemon and that always helped to clear his mind.

“Êtes-vous prête à commencer vos leçons?”

Akihito nodded, “Oui Madame.” He was eager to begin, he and the German tutor had left off on an incredibly interesting lesson yesterday, about the two point source interference of light waves and he was eager to learn more. Even though each tutor spoke a different language, they were all extremely competent in each field of study.

“Où est-ce que vous avez terminée hier?”

Akihito always began each new lesson with a short recitation of the old. It served three functions; one was to help the following tutor know where to begin, the other was to alert them to how well Akihito had understand the previous lesson and the last was to stimulate Akihito’s memory of his last lesson and prepare him to receive instruction. Verbal recall was one of the best ways to cement information in the brain as it forced the student process the information and to put what they had learned into their own words. Regardless of which tutor Akihito was with, the content was the same, it was simply the language that changed.

The constant change certainly helped him with his linguistic skills, but, although Akihito was unaware of it, the real reason Asami sent a different tutor nearly every day of the week was precisely the same reason he was constantly changing his guards.

The morning flew by, keeping his keen mind busy with an ever expanding understanding of the universe; a fascinating world beyond visible light where intangible photons interacted with each other to create the things he could see around him and the pictures he could take with his Viewfinder. His tutor had an excellent understanding of light particles and photography and could make things easy to understand. Before he knew it, their time was up and he carried his teacher’s valise to the door and saw her off.

He didn’t know it, but for the French tutor; teaching the beautiful girl she knew only as Asami Aki was the highlight of her week. None of her usual students had the hunger or thirst for knowledge that her favorite pupil displayed, nor did they have the ability to grasp it the way Aki did. And none were as polite, sweet and well mannered as Aki was. Or a pretty... the girl was always dressed so beautifully, in clothes so classy they could have come straight off the runways or from the fashion plates of the fifties. The girl was incredibly lovely, like a Barbie doll, with her tiny waist, long blond curls and enormous blue eyes. She lamented that she only got one day every two weeks with her pupil but found Aki’s ability to learn in any language absolutely incredible. Fascinating.

Once his tutor was gone, Akihito obediently went to his art room and set up his watercolors, as was outlined in his schedule. He was careful to tie a large pink smock over his clothing. His paints and watercolors were already ready and he clipped a large piece of thick paper on the easel before him.

All around the room were different projects he had started on. Landscapes mostly; oceans, mountains, forests and far off cities he had only seen in pictures. Some were of the cityscape out the window. Akihito felt at this point he could probably draw it from memory; he had been staring down at it his entire life. He felt he could walk the streets blindfolded, he had memorized every curve, every turn of the streets below. He wondered what it would be like to walk them. How small he would feel with the giant towers above him instead of below.

The penthouse they lived in was at the top of the tallest tower in Shinjuku and so, from Akihito’s view, everything else looked tiny. He longed to know what it looked like from below. Akihito sighed and contemplated drawing the view from his window, yet again. He did enjoy capturing every last detail from the trees in the park to the bike locked to the bench…. or he could painted a brilliant landscape from his mind. He could do flowers or portraits… or anything. Anything he wished.

He did, at least, have complete freedom here in his art studio.

After a long moment of contemplation, Akihito’s slender fingers picked up the graphite pencil and did a quick sketch. Curves and edges and hard lines took form on the blank paper. Next he began to dip his brush into the large pot of black ink. Usually Akihito had many brushes and used every color he had at his disposal, mixing them to make even more. But today, the boy used only the black. Depending on how much water he used and how quickly he moved the brush, the color transferred onto the paper was anywhere from a light translucent grey to a deep charcoal to a thick midnight black. He used a large brush at first; to sweep great swathes of grey shades onto the form he had sketched, occasionally letting the water bleed to create the rippling effect he wanted and then he picked up a small horsehair brush and began the detail work. It was painstaking, but that was what gave his art such life, such depth and vibrancy, like a living, breathing photograph. So much so, that when one looked at it, it felt as if they might reach out and sink their hand into the painting, that under their palm they might really feel the slithery scales or prick a fingertip on the glistening claws. That at any moment, the painting might come to life and fly at the viewer and eat them alive.

Akihito’s face was serene as he lost himself in the painting, his brow peaceful, even though it was perfectly obvious his mood was dark. There was no mystery as to who consumed his thoughts as he reached the end and dipped a clean brush into the yellow pot, mixing it with a hint of red and a hint of brown to create the perfect amber golden hue of Asami’s eyes.

They glared from the face of an enormous Black Dragon, so large and monstrous the page could not contain him. Those eyes seemed to fairly glow from the center of the painting, full of heat, hunger and hostility. The Dragon was curled in a protective pose, snarling, as if preparing to fly out of the painting and tear the observer limb from limb.

At first glance, it was unclear why. But if one looked very, very close, in the Dragon’s enormous claws, there was a tiny person. The figure was completely overshadowed by the Dragon and yet she was the focal point of the picture, the point around which the entire composition revolved. It was the Princess…. and yet, Akihito no longer considered her important enough, to even color in….

-


	21. Sleeping Beauty

Akihito went into the dining room to find that his plates from breakfast had been cleared and his lunch was waiting him; pecan encrusted salmon over a bed of greens with a vinaigrette dressing. Light but perfect. Both meals had been plain and not too heavy on his stomach, which he was grateful for. He was still a bit hungover from the previous night. Too much alcohol...uh… consumption.

After lunch, the guards buzzed his Masseuse into the apartment. He was a tiny old man, bent and gnarled who walked with a white tipped cane. At first glance, he appeared very, very fragile but Akihito knew better, those hands were very, very strong. He was blind and tapped his way through the penthouse until Akihito came to his side and guided him to the dimly light parlour with the massage table in it. Akihito bowed very low and the fact that the stooped old man didn’t bow nearly as low as he did made him happy. That was, of course, because he couldn’t see Akihito’s bow so it wasn’t entirely fair but still, that was the way Akihito felt it should be. He never said much, simply asking where Akihito was sore. Akihito’s answer was always the same after a night with Asami; his lower back and legs. But the little old man always asked anyway. Akihito then removed his clothing, hanging his blouse and skirt carefully and folding his delicates. He then wrapped a towel around his groin and laid facedown on the table. The old man turned his back when Akihito undressed out of respect, but Aki knew the old man was utterly and completely blind and he did not have to feel ashamed wearing his cockcage in front of him. In truth, the old man never gave any indication whether he knew Akihito was male or female and no indication that he cared either way. Akihito felt reassured by his apathy. It made him feel more relaxed, being naked in front of a stranger, knowing that he could not see him.

Blind masseuses were often considered the best in Japan. And in fact, during the Tokugawa period, the only ones who were allowed to practice Anma massage at all, were the blind. Sighted people were completely prohibited from practicing the art and even in modern day in Japan, many Anma healers were blind. When Asami had started making Akihito get regular Anma massages, he had been educated in the art and history of it. It was considered one of the oldest forms of massage in the world. It used the common massage techniques such as kneading, rubbing, tapping and shaking, but directed them at specific vital points and meridians on the body. It is considered quite a vigorous form of massage, with gripping movements intended to increase blood flow to the muscles and deep tissues, and forceful acupressure. It was believed to stimulate the immune system, lymph nodes and improve circulation, all while strengthening the mind-body connection and helping one deal with stress and anxiety.

And it hurt. A lot, sometimes.

The old man was very systematic finding each pressure point, slightly pressing them and slowly releasing. Akihito could feel multiple areas of his body tingle from a single press on the pressure points. He had a knack for finding the most sensitive points on Akihito’s body and pushing on them. He would grab handfuls of his muscles and knead them like dough. He would manipulate his limbs and joints, stretching and pressing them, instructing Akihito to take deep breaths during the intense stretches. It was uncomfortable at first and Akihito always wanted to ask him to stop but he knew if he waited it out, in the end, all of his soreness, ache and pains would be gone and he would feel fantastic, riding high on a wave of endorphins.

And he was right. Nearly an hour into the massage, Akihito felt like pile of goo on the table. The room was dark and Akihito kept his eyes closed as the old man gently helped him roll over on his back. He always finished with gentle sweeps of his hands, pushing towards Akihito’s lymph nodes, thought to help stimulate the removal of toxins from his blood stream. This was Akihito’s favorite part. It was so relaxing and the masseuse's hands felt hotter than usual. The heat sank into his pores. He could almost feel his skin tingling and his circulation improving. The gentle sweeps continued; the warmth of the masseuse's hands spreading over his chest, arms and legs, over his torso, bending and twisting his neck. His fingers fluttered over Akihito’s closed eyelids, his temples, chin and his forehead, smoothing, smoothing, coaxing the languor from Akihito’s body until he nearly slept, suspended in a warm safe place below consciousness and above the dark. And for a long while, there he stayed, hovering, not thinking, just feeling….. until the man’s hand began to creep up his thighs, sweeping near the junction of his legs, accidentally brushing the towel aside. Akihito frowned and then relaxed, thinking it must be a mistake. The masseuse was always very, very careful to stay well away from Akihito’s buttocks and genitals.

And yet, he seemed to be circling closer and closer to them, smoothing his hands over Akihito’s naked hips, down the sides of his flanks and then his thumbs pressed into the pressure point, the tender lymph nodes in Akihito’s crotch, brushing the undersides of Akihito’s testicles.

He cried out in surprise and his hands flying down to push the old man’s hand away from his private parts, his blue eyes opening wide… and then meeting the steady golden gaze of Asami.

Akihito bolted upright in shock and grabbed the discarded towel, trying to pull it over his naked loins, “Daddy?” He questioned incredulously, “What are you doing here?

Asami smirked and tugged the towel away from him, dropping it on the floor beside the massage table. The gold of Akihito’s cock cage seemed to glow in the low light, as if trying to direct both of their gazes to it, even as Akihito wished to hide it.

Asami smiled at him as his thumbs continued to swirl circles on Akihito’s inner thighs, “Can’t a Daddy want to spent some time with his baby?”

He looked side to side, still bewildered at how Asami could have switched places with the masseuse without him even noticing it. It was like the old man had disappeared into thin air.

His eyes were filled with confusion, “When-”

The older man replied nonchalantly, “Sometime ago. Lay back Princess, I wasn’t done with your massage yet.”

Akihito hesitantly, but obediently laid back down on his back, acutely aware of his own nakedness, while Asami was fully clothed in his imposing three piece suit. He felt as if he was on display, his entire naked form laying prone on the table while piercing eyes swept over it. His private parts were exposed. But then again, Akihito had no 'private' parts, nothing he had was private, not from Asami. His skin was tingling, but it was a different kind of tingling. Alert, on edge, every hair standing on end.

Contrasting with Akihito’s anxiety, Asami spoke calmly, conversationally, “Did you know that some of the most important lymphatics are here, in the belly, and between the legs? Its important we not neglect them.”

Akihito rolled his eyes inside. Right. Sure. Thats why Asami wanted to touch him there. And he had some ocean front property for sale in Arizona.... Asami applied pressure to Akihito’s navel, prompting an instinctive exhale and began a steady circular motion starting at his belly button, then working his way outward over his hips and flanks. Akihito could feel the blood flow increasing to his abdomen as it slowly warmed to Asami’s touch. A few minute later, he then swept his legs apart to again rotate his thumbs into the boy’s crotch, pressing painfully on his pressure points and then, with light pressure from the fingers and palms, he brushed upwards towards the abdomen… alternating hands, one over the other, pressing from Akihito’s inner thighs around his groin and up onto his stomach. It felt incredible. It was an area the blind Anma had never touched before and that made it much more intense. To Akihito’s great shame though, he could feel blood pooling…. in another place now.

His cock swelled in the cage, making Akihito feel even more naked and embarrassed in front of Asami.

Asami hummed in his throat, “Its not a proper Anma massage, until all of the glands are cleansed and purged. I think perhaps, we have one more gland to cleanse, do we not?”

Akihito shook his head in fear. His bottom was so sore. He didn’t want his prostate milked again so soon. Last night had been so over and beyond what they usually did and he was aching in places he didn't know he had.... He was tender in there…. too tender.

A large hand smoothed over the lines on his brow, “Sssh pretty one, ssshh. No worries. All you have to do is relax and leave everything to me. Do you trust me Princess?”

Akihito took a deep breath and exhaled, immediately relaxing, “Yes Daddy”

“Thats my good boy.” With a resonant click, the cockcage was removed and placed to the side and Akihito’s penis rose to attention, swelling, engorging, becoming plump and pink with his need before Asami’s eager gaze.

His Daddy slid his hand along his legs from his ankle bone to the back of his knees, bending them and pressing them apart, until Akihito’s heels are as far apart as they could before falling off of the massage table. Asami apparently decided they were not far enough apart and pulled out two metal bars from under the table, unfolding and positioning them. Akihito inhaled sharply, he had forgotten that this was no ordinary massage table. Asami grabbed him by the waist and scooted him down on the exam table until his bottom was nearly hanging off the edge.

"Put your legs in the stirrups, Akihito. " He left no room for argument and the boy didn’t even consider disobeying. Aki leaned forward on his hips and propped himself up somewhat awkwardly with his elbows as he put first his right foot and then his left in the cold metal stirrups.

He could feel his crotch spreading open, as he put his legs in the stirrups. They kept him from slipping, even with his bottom perched precariously on the end on the table, but his body weight put downward pressure on his legs, forcing them to open wider.

Asami’s eyes never left Akihito’s spread legs. He pulled up a rolling stool the masseuse often sat in while he was working and sat directly in between them. It placed Asami at eye level with Akihito’s genitals; his erect penis, delicate testicles and the still-so-tender entrance of his body. He could feel his opening bloom open a bit, feel the air inside him and knew Asami could see inside him too. Akihito turned his face to the side. He felt open and bared. He was naked in front of Asami all the time, every day, he was exposed and helpless and vulnerable… and yet somehow, each and every time, it felt new and frightening. Asami was so powerful and he was so helpless. So completely powerless. Why did he have to reinforce it so often? Why?

Asami pressed a gentle kiss to the arch of his right foot. “Akihito, look at me. Don’t hide baby. Not from me.”

Akihito looked into his eyes, his face red with embarrassment as he sat in front of him, naked and spread out like a banquet on a buffet table. He watched as large calloused hands stroked gently up the insides of his legs, and then swirled below, notching the stirrups up higher, making him bend his knees more. Asami put his hands on the inside of his thighs and pushed outward, making him spread open more. The stretch was only the slightest bit uncomfortable and as soon as Akihito breathed deeply and relaxed, it was gone.

Soft leathers straps were lifted and buckled into place, around his ankle, above his knee and then around the softness of his thighs. The black leather contrasted sharply with his pale white skin. So pale, like it had never seen the sun…. Because it hadn’t.

His thoughts were interrupted, "I'm not strapping your legs down because you’ve been bad, Princess. I know you’re my good boy and that you would keep your legs spread open for me, if I asked, wouldn't you?" Asami looked into his eyes as he nodded his head and smiled gently at him, "That's right baby, you’re so good for Daddy. I’m only strapping you in because I want you to relax and not have to worry about keeping still. I want you to lay back down on the table and close your eyes. Just relax and don’t worry about a thing. Daddy’s got you sweetling."

Akihito laid back obediently. The overhead lights were still dim, although he could hear Asami flick on the bright exam light and he could feel the warmth of it shining between his legs, exacerbating the heat pooling in his crotch. He squirmed under the intense scrutiny, made even worse by the fact that he could no longer see what Asami was doing. All he could do was lie there helplessly and wait for him to do…. whatever he was going to do.

A shy blush crept over his cheeks and throat and he was unaware of the way it spread over his entire body, painting his chest, belly and bottom with an entrancing pink… unaware of the way it drove the man looking at him, absolutely mad with desire.

The older man kissed him, moving his mouth from his feet to his knees to his thighs, nuzzling into his loins like a hungry child seeking his mother’s teat, scraping his chin deliberately over sensitive skin. He ignored Akihito’s feeble protests, playing his tongue and teeth over the boy’s most delicate places, pressing his nose into the warm crease between his cock and thigh and inhaling deeply of his sweet, musky essence. He is a man addicted. There is no denying it. No denying that he was compelled to leave an important business meeting to come and get his ‘fix’, like a junkie. Thoughts of his boy being massaged by hands other than his, kept intruding. He kept seeing Akihito, naked and sleepy, like a helpless kitten in the presence of another man. He can usually stand it, just barely, because the blind Anma is ninety years old and completely sightless. Another man’s hands on his Princess are bad enough but his eyes too…. impossible. It keeps his raging jealousy at bay…. but just barely. He thought of the boy laying still and passive, rubbed and soothed by old withered hands, hands that were not his... he had to leave and come straight here. Quietly dismissing the masseuse and taking over while his boy lay so sweet and passive. Asleep and yet not. His to take, to ravage and to protect….

"I want to consume you," he murmured against Akihito’s precious cock, breathing it in again; his intoxicating scent, "I would swallow you whole, keep you safe inside me, protect you with every fiber of my being, if I could."

“Nngh..” He whimpered and Asami reveled in the helpless, needy sound. His boy, his precious boy. He will need for nothing, Asami will give him everything.

He swept his tongue over the smooth flesh of his testicles. Akihito’s skin was soft like satin everywhere, but nowhere quite so much as his testicles. They were pink velvet silk. So soft and smooth and so, so sensitive. Asami loved the boy's nakedness, loved that his privates were bald and so completely hairless. It meant Akihito felt even the smallest touch. He brushed his lips over Akihito’s balls again, opening his mouth and sucking them both inside at once, engulfing them in moist heat. The whimper Akihito gave him this time was more like a wail. “Uuw-aaahh!!”

He was trembling. There was tension in his loins, the tendons and muscles twitched and flexing with anticipation. Asami smoothed his hands over them until they softened under his ministrations and Akihito lay limp once more. This was not about teasing or torment. This was about relaxing him. Taking care of him. Giving him what he needed. He didn’t make him wait. He parted his lips over Akihito’s smooth shaft and began to suckle, gently bobbing his head, swallowing and releasing the pressure as if coaxing his seed up through a straw. He could taste the liquid beginning to pool at the tip and he lapped up each salty drop, savoring the taste like a fine wine. More was beginning to flow and he could feel Akihito’s testicles drawing up tight in preparation. Asami could draw the boy’s pleasure out for hours if he wanted to, but he could also make Akihito climax almost instantly when he chose. He knew his baby boy’s body so, so well. He swallowed that pretty little cock down as if he were trying to eat it, his throat working the head while his tongue lapped at the underside while the suction pulled the fluid from inside.

Akihito lasted about a millisecond.

He came almost instantly, slender hips jolting, spurting into Asami’s mouth as the older man drank greedily, eager to consume any part of the boy that he could. He drew on it until Akihito whimpered yet again. This time, it was a little frightened, hurt sound. He released the hold he had on Akihito’s sensitized cock reluctantly, not wishing to hurt him and then stood, moved around the lean over him, rubbing his bare stomach with one hand while the other supported his neck so that he could kiss those full sweet lips.

It blew Akihito’s mind how quickly Asami could make him cum when he wanted to. Mortifying actually. He could make him blow his load in a split second when he put his mind to it. And then he drank his cum like starving man in the desert. He could taste himself on Asami’s tongue as he pushed it into his mouth a bit too eagerly, his tongue and palate still coated with semen. It was salty, but also a little bit bitter and acrid. It wasn’t pleasant so Akihito couldn’t understand Asami’s eagerness to drink it. It wasn’t the taste, and so it only followed reason that the thing which made it so appealing and delicious to Asami; was the simple fact that it was his.

The thought aroused him more than he wanted to admit.

Asami leaned over him, pressing him to the table while his legs were still held up and spread by the stirrups. He laid kisses on his brow, holding Akihito’s head firmly so he couldn’t look away from his vow, “I would give you anything you asked for, lay the world at your feet.”

Akihito dropped his lashes, unable to look Asami in the eye... because he knew it wasn’t true. When he was a child, they used to play a game. Asami would ask him what he wanted and Akihito would try to think of the strangest, wildest, craziest things he could think of and then Asami would get it for him. No matter the difficulty or the expense, he always made it happen. Asami loved proving his affection and Akihito liked challenging him. It was a game they had both enjoyed…. until Akihito got older and started asking for the one thing he really wanted.

Freedom.

It was the one thing Asami would never give him. Anything else. Everything. But not that, never that. Akihito knew better than to ask anymore. No matter what Asami said, there was one thing he knew the older man would never give him.

But there was something else he wanted…..

“Daddy?”

Asami was holding one of his hands, carefully inspecting and palpating the slight bruising around his slender wrist from the night before, “Yes baby?”

His gaze lifted to focus on Akihito’s face and as always, the intensity of it made him fumble embarrassingly, “Last night… I was going to sing for you. But I didn’t get to… because, well… you know. And I was disappointed, so do you think… maybe… I could get dressed up and sing for you again tonight?”

His golden eyes flashed eagerly, “My baby wants to sing for me?”

Akihito nodded, his heart filled with guilt at Asami’s obvious excitement. He never once volunteered to perform for Asami. It hadn’t occurred to him that he could. He had never even thought about it. It was generally something Asami simply commanded him to do. He had never asked before. He felt guilty because the truth was….. he didn’t really care about singing for Asami. He just wanted to get dressed up… which meant getting back in his closet…. which meant reading his mystery note…. but, of course, he couldn’t tell Asami that. And Asami looked so happy that Akihito wanted to sing for him, it stabbed the boy like a knife in the heart.

The older man fell on him, covering his face and neck with kisses that only made Aki feel even guiltier. One for lying and two, for never once having volunteered to sing for Asami before. For never having tried to please him. It made him feel very selfish. Asami always tried to make him happy and what had he done for Asami? Nothing.

So Akihito feigned his eagerness, “Yes, and I’ll sing your favorite. I learned how to sing it in French.”

“French huh? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Its a date then. I will make it happen. You and me tonight, my beloved Princess. I shall count the hours in anticipation…. but you must rest now. You must be careful not to overdo my sweet. Its time for your nap.”

The boy rolled his eyes, “Daddy, I really don’t need a nap. I’m not tired”

Asami moved to stand at the boy's splayed feet, looking at him with eyebrows arched in mock surprise, “You’re not?”

Akihito shook his head, “No-o.”

Golden eyes smirked at him right before Asami’s dark head disappeared again between his legs, “You will be.”

-

 


	22. Miss Muffet

Akihito awoke, yet again, wearing something he had not been wearing when he went to sleep. He knew because when he went to sleep-slash-passed-out, he had been butt-ass-naked, strapped down on a gynecologist’s table with Asami’s head between his legs.

Luckily this time, it was not a diaper that covered his loins, or some other kinky outfit. He sighed in relief. It was just his favorite bikini bottoms, pink with little hearts all over them and the strings tied with little heart charms too, that dangled below his hips, tickling his thighs. They were Asami’s favorite bikini bottoms too, he liked to play with those charms, feel them between his fingers, warmed by Akihito’s skin. He would tug…. tug…. tug on the little charms until well….. that was how the bikini top met its demise; shredded in a moment of lust. Luckily the bikini bottoms came untied much easier. Akihito knew Asami could have gotten him a new top, if he had wanted, but he never bothered.

He stood and stretched, feeling great, his muscles felt amazing from the massage and the nap had energized him after he had been, well, drained by Asami. He looked over at the clock, shocked to see it reading five in the afternoon. He had slept for nearly three hours. But then, Asami had been particularly hungry… and of course, he had kept him up most of the night...

Akihito lifted the note that sat on the bedside.

_Good evening Princess, I know by now you must be hungry._

Just reading the words, his stomach let out a gurgling growl and Akihito rubbed it subconsciously as he finished the letter.

_Its not safe to swim just after eating though, so go for your swim and then you can have a snack afterwards. Your dinner will be with me tonight. I have taken the liberty of cancelling your voice and dance lessons for the evening. We cannot have you worn out for our date. Enjoy the rest of your evening at your leisure, the door to the television room will be unlocked at six. Your stylist will come to help you dress at eight._

_Je serai poète et toi poésie_

_Asami Ryuichi_

Akihito could practically hear the smile in his words and the romantic words made his tummy twist. He could tell, Asami was going to go all out tonight. He just hoped he didn’t get too crazy. Akihito’s ears were still ringing from the fireworks from last month’s date on the rooftop. He folded the paper up neatly and then opened the bottom drawer. The liner was loose and under it was piles of Asami’s notes to him. He saved almost all of them. Some got lost and some got ruined in his clothes when they were washed because he often put them in his pockets, but most he saved. He didn’t know why. They just felt…. too important to throw away. But of course he couldn't let Asami know he kept them, he could just see the smug look on his face now.... So he hid them in his drawer, underneath the liner where Asami would never see. On top were things from his childhood, photographs, his old teddy bear with a frazzled bow around its neck and a well worn photo album of his mother, the cover streaked with black soot and ash. It still smelled a bit like a fire, even after all these years.

He couldn’t resist thumbing through it, savoring every faded photograph. She had been so beautiful. And she seemed so happy. Akihito wished he had pictures of his father, but this was the only album that had survived the fire that killed his parents. He had a few faded news clippings of a blond haired man, but the shots had been taken at a distance and were blurry. She had been a singer and a model, and he had been a photographer. They had fallen in love, a whirlwind romance, married and pregnant, poor but happy, living in a crummy apartment. An electrical fire, it started on the top floor, in his parent’s room. The fire was put out, but they died in their sleep from smoke inhalation. Akihito didn’t, because his crib had been placed near an open window. Asami’s father had been the owner of the tenement apartments, wracked with guilt, he had taken Akihito home with him and the rest was history.

Akihito couldn’t remember any of that. His earliest memory was of Asami. Asami holding him, kissing him, bathing him. Asami playing with him, reading to him, loving him. Always. He had been everything to him, his mother and his father. His whole family. Everything. And as mad as the man made him sometimes, he still was.

The only things he had of his past were these photographs and a few of his mother’s show dresses that had been stored at the club where she sang. They were his favorites. He would wear one tonight, in honor of her. He wished he could remember her voice. The way she sounded, the way she smelled….but… nothing.

Akihito shut the album with a click and closed the drawer.

He padded barefoot across the enormous penthouse mansion and hopped into the indoor lap pool. He swam; vigorously trying to clear his mind of the frustrations that seemed to constantly well up, no matter how hard he tried. He felt so useless, so helpless. Like Asami’s child still. Like his ‘pet’.

He swam hard and fast, until he was sweating, even under the water. He liked to pretend he was racing someone or that someone was chasing him. He took long strokes through the water, pressing with his arms and legs as fast as he could and once he reached the other end, quickly flip-turning and launching himself off the wall. For a moment, Akihito thought he felt a hand grasp at his ankle. He turned and out of the corner of his eye thought he saw a dark shadow in the water behind him…. a surge of adrenaline hit his muscles and he surged forward, swimming faster, faster. The image of something grabbing at his feet suddenly frightened him, and then suddenly he was terrified….

He swam to the other side and lifted himself out of the pool with the strength of his arms in one strong motion and threw his body away the edge of the pool. He sat there for a moment, water running in rivulets down his back, dripping down his face.The ripples from where he had been swimming slowly ebbed away and calmed and the empty pool was again peaceful. Tiny waves lapped at the edges. The water was clear, crystal clear. There was nothing there and there never had been. It was all in his head.

Akihito shook his head. Why was he always like this? Always frightened so easily. He felt ridiculous, like a child afraid of the boogeyman under his bed. He was always seeing things, getting scared for no reason. And once it happened, he often couldn’t turn it off, no matter how hard he tried.

For a long moment Akihito sat there, shaking, trying to collect himself. He felt like fool, letting his imagination get the best of him like that. Finally Akihito left the indoor swimming pool and took a long shower, letting the steam wash away his anxiety until it was just a slight prickle under his skin. He brushed his long blonde hair, combing out all the tangles and the conditioned it with special rosemary oil and shea butter lotion, without rinsing it out completely, just combing it through. It smoothed his naturally unruly hair and made the waves turn into ringlets when it dried. The familiar scent soothed him and once the anxiety had faded completely, Akihito realized he was really, really hungry now.

In the kitchen waited his snack. Fruit cut into the shape of bunnies, carrot sticks with ranch dipping sauce and cookies with a tall glass of milk. A child's snacks.

Akihito reached for the chocolate chip cookies first, and then noticed a note tucked under the plate. Strong black marks across a pristine white paper.

_Fruits and vegetables first, mon amour_

There was no need to sign the note. Akihito knew exactly who it was from. He dutifully ate the bunny shaped melons and pineapples, smiling in chagrin when he noticed the way the banana was placed on the plate, with two grapes underneath it. Seriously? Didn’t the man have better things to do?

He rolled his pretty blue eyes eyes and took a sip of the milk. It was thick and creamy, with a hint of brown sugar and cinnamon and something else Akihito could never put his finger on. Tangy, slightly musky and salty. Probably some sort of spice.

Akihito shrugged and dipped his cookies into it, relishing every last bite, even pressing his thumb to the plate to collect the crumbs and rinsing them down with every last drop of the thick cream, until he felt pleasantly satiated. He wasn’t full, but he wasn’t hungry anymore. The boy looked across the room at the clock. It was past six. That meant the TV and game room was unlocked. He grinned in excitement and bounced inside.

There were so many DVDs and games he could hardly choose just one. But then, there was always one he went for first. Myst. Akihito loved the lack of structure. The complete freedom to do whatever he wished. No obvious goals or objectives were laid out in the game. It was simply an entire, elaborate world that was laid out for him to simply explore. It was a completely immersive experience. There were no obvious enemies, no physical violence, and no threat of dying at any point. The player was alone on the solitary and mysterious island. There was no time limit to complete the game.The game unfolded at its own pace and was solved through a combination of patience, observation, and logical thinking. He had been playing it off and on for years, finding more and more worlds in the pages of the books scattered throughout the island, always noticing more details. Truthfully, Akihito had solved it, but there were many ways to end the game and he never really got tired of it. Possibly because he never felt like he truly ‘won’. It didn’t matter which book the player chose in the end, the red book or the blue, they were both the wrong answer, in different ways. Leading to different endings, neither of which were particularly ‘Happily Ever After’. Maybe thats why he never really felt like the story was finished….

Well over an hour later Akihito got frustrated, he always hated the maze part. It was just too long and boring. With a sigh, he sat back from his computer and the stood and walked over to the TV. Some mindless entertainment. That was what he wanted now.

He shuffled through the stack of DVDs but nothing was particularly appealing. He kinda wanted to see something scary, like the old horror movies Asami used let him watch when he was younger, before he arbitrarily decided Akihito couldn’t see those sorts of things anymore. There was one goofy zombie movie he remembered vaguely that he wanted to see again… He ruffled deeper into the drawer, hoping maybe Asami missed one when he got rid of all the scary movies. Suddenly a cockroach crawled out from one of the DVDs, up on top of the one Akihito was holding.

He screamed in startle and flung the case against the wall. The roach fell on the floor and began to skitter towards him. Akihito screamed again and jumped up on the coach, tucking his feet under him. He HATED bugs. There was nothing on earth that made him feel more like the girl, like the baby, Asami thought he was. He was terrified of them all; spiders, cockroachs, beetles, ants, centipedes….. Logically, it made no sense, he knew that. He was ten times their size and except for a few venomous species, there was nothing they could actually do to him. But something about their small size, their ability to hide anywhere and surprise him, their many little legs running so fast…. just the sight of one made his skin crawl and his heart race. He wished Asami was there. He would smash it and whisk the body away and then hold Akihito until he wasn’t scared.

But Asami wasn’t there. He was all alone.

Akihito pressed his hands to the sides of his temples, overwhelmed by an intense wave of fear. Then the room started spinning and he felt like he was going to throw up. His whole body was shaking, he couldn’t catch his breath, and his heart was pounding out of his chest.

The cockroach’s little feelers were waving in the air as it decided which way to go, suddenly veering under the very couch Akihito was sitting on.

He jumped off and back towards the door, slamming it behind him with a deep breath.

Akihito’s eyes were dull and glassy as his mind began to dissociate from his body, the stress hormones secreted in floods, bathing his brain and body. He had no way of stopping them, no control over the fear and terror that washed over him, making his brain feel like it was on fire, while his body felt numb. It was like a waterfall, cascading out of control. He felt like his teeth were itching. His nerves on edge. Like there was something under his skin he needed to get out. Akihito paced the living room. He needed to scratch, something, he needed…. the boy’s fingers were travelling over his arms, feeling the perfect smoothness, rubbing and searching until he found the tiniest little bump and there they stopped… and then began to dig. He pressed his nails into the soft skin and sighed in relief at the lighting hot pain that raced up his arm. Finally, something he could control. He almost instantly felt better, like scratching at an ant bite that had been driving you crazy or finally popping that zit. A red mark appeared, but the instant the pain stopped… Akihito felt it again. That need. His eyes glazed over and he began to dig into the imperfection on his skin, pressing his nail into it, harder, harder waiting for the pop…. the red blood to ooze up. He watched the keratin blade begin to pierce the skin, almost as if hypnotized….

The sudden sound of a buzzer filled the apartment and he jumped. Disoriented and confused, as if waking from a dream. What had he been doing? He couldn't remember. He also couldn't remember coming into the living room, or sitting on the floor… The buzzer sounded again and he jumped. Akihito wasn’t given time to think about it. He went to the door, just as it clicked open and three short Japanese women entered the apartment. The leader was the tallest, but even she was a half a foot shorter than Akihito. It was the only time he got to feel tall, because Asami and all of his guards simply towered over the small boy.

“Kon'nichiwa utsukushī!!!!” She said pinching his cheek. Akihito rubbed it.

“Kon'nichiwa ane.”

She bounced excitedly on her heels, “I hear you are performing again tonight and that it is an extra special night! Asami-san sent extra special instructions to make you pretty pretty pretty!!”

All three women began to chatter around him as they ushered him into the bathroom, pressing him into the large chair. The smallest knelt at his feet and began opening her pedicure kit while the middle immediately began examining his nails. The tallest began playing with his long hair, gently pulling out the elastic and clucking her teeth at the dent in left in his ponytail.

“You should put it up with pins! Pins!! No rubber bands! They bend, they pull, they break your pretty hair!!! No more rubber bands!”

She shook her finger at Akihito and he nodded absently, just to get her to stop scolding him.

The woman at his feet was rubbing and buffing them, it felt fantastic, the manicurist was dipping his fingers in oil and rubbing it up his hands and forearms. The lead stylist began raking his fingernails through his hair, fluffing his hair and scraping his scalp, it felt so good, he couldn’t help but shiver and the itchy, needy feeling almost immediately began to fade. He sighed under their ministrations. They removed the polish from his fingers and toes, soaking it off so they could reapply the Shellac. It was a strong polish, cured under a UV light that lasted for weeks without chipping. Which was good, because the moment Akihito saw a chip, he couldn’t help picking at it, every time, until the polish was gone and the nail bed bled. He couldn’t help it. But luckily, they always redid his nails before they could chip.

“Same color Aki-kun?”

He nodded, they always wanted him to get something bright and colorful, but he liked pink, a nice, light soft peachy pink that went with everything and complimented his skin tone.

She looked slyly at him and pulled a bottle of nail polish out of her pocket, “I brought new color, extra special, just for you. Pretty pink for pretty girl?”

It was a slightly brighter pink than he normally wore, with just a hint of shimmer. It was pretty… really pretty. Akihito knew Asami would probably like it on him. He smiled shyly, “Ok”

She clapped her hands and handed it to the girl at his feet, making an exaggerated ‘O’ with her fingers, “Ok!”

“Now for hairstyle, what do we think? Up or down?” She said flipping and tousling his curls, lifting them contemplatively.

Akihito wanted up, the girls wanted down, so they compromised, sweeping the front of his hair back and to the side, pinned carefully back while the rest of his long hair was curled so that it hung in loose elegant tendrils down his back. She slyly pinned a tiara in the front of his hair and he gasped at it when she spun him around to face the mirror again.

“From Asami-san.”

It glittered in his golden hair, sparkling and glinted as he turned his head. Perhaps the stylist thought it was cubic zirconia, but Akihito knew better. Those were diamonds, every last glittering gemstone. It was small, and well suited to Akihito’s petiteness, not overpowering, but it was ornate, stunning and utterly classic. The other girls oohed and aahed over it as they finished his pedicure and manicure. The pink was vibrant but still classy and the glitter sparkled when he moved his fingers.

“Now for makeup!”

“Not too much.” He cautioned her.

She waved her hands dismissively and rolled her eyes, “I know, I know. No facepaint, I gaaaaaht it!”

Akihito grinned at her sarcastic tone. She was the only one willing to talk back. This short crazy little woman with chopsticks in her hair. She powdered his face just a touch to absorb the shine that would inevitably come from standing under the stage lights, swept a hint of blush under his cheek bones for definition, and then tinted and glossed his lips. She curled his already dark lashes so that they winged out even more exotically. She applied just the faintest shimmering shadow to his lids and the corners of his eyes to make them seem even bigger and brighter.

The stylists stepped back and clapped their hands together, bouncing and giggling like girls going to prom, “Now we pick a dress!!!”

They turned and went toward his closet. He stood, stumbling after them with the little cotton plugs still between his toes, “Wait!”

They stopped immediately, look at him expectantly.

“I would like to pick my dress. Alone, if thats alright, please?”

The girls LOVED Akihito’s closet and jumped at any excuse to go inside, so the disappointment on their faces was obvious, but they relented, “Ok Aki-chan, its your special night!”

They stood aside and let Akihito go into his closet alone.Their pouting faces made him both want to laugh and feel terribly guilty. He closed the door behind him with relief. It was odd how at times he longed for company and then when he got it, sometimes he couldn’t wait to be alone again.

He moved slowly through the closet and then peeled off his dressing robe and sat naked before the mirror. He opened the first drawer on his right and slipped into his lacy garter belt hitching it up over his silk panties. He then picked up the stocking from the night before, he bent over, hiding his lap from the cameras and unwrapped the note, letting it fall onto the floor. He then bent down as if to retrieve his stocking and read the little card.

 

_Asami thought he killed all of the Takabas….But he missed one..._

 

His shoulders slumped in disappointment and he frowned at himself in the mirror.

That was it?

That was what he had been waiting all this time for?

Seriously? What did that even mean? Who the hell were the Takabas? He had never heard that name before in his life. The handwriting was shaky and unsteady, leaning on the page and trailing off at the end. Obviously, the man had been drunk and probably a little unhinged. Who knew what that even meant or why the mystery wanted so badly to give it to him. He flipped the business card over and read the front.

_Inspector Onoda, 555-212-2387, Shinjuku Precinct 7._

Whatever.

Akihito flipped the card back in the drawer carelessly. Stupid. All that for nothing. He should never have gotten so worked up. The guy was obviously a nut job.

The note already forgotten, he pulled the cotton balls from between his toes and slid his thigh-highs on, careful not to snag the delicate silk and then clipped them to the garter belt so they wouldn’t slump. There was nothing sexier than shimmering, sheer hose covering pale skin and yet concealing nothing…. and there was nothing less sexy than slumping pantyhose, sagging around one’s ankles. Akihito picked his shoes first. That was the way he always picked his outfits, first the shoes, then the dress, then the accessories.

He picked the shiniest, fanciest ones in his closet, to go with his sparkling tiara. The heel he picked was a little lower than some of the others, but what it lacked in height, it made up for in style. The delicate straps were fairly dripping with diamonds and the way the straps crisscrossed his foot and ankle made for easy walking and dancing. They sparkled like stars, even in the low light of the closet. He smiled at the way they glittered and then lifted his eyes to the racks of clothing that surrounded him. Akihito trailed his fingers over the dresses. Satin, chiffon, charmeuse, gauze, voile, challis…. the most beautiful dresses anyone could imagine, in every shape and color. He stopped on a pink one with a full ballroom skirt. It was beautiful for dancing in, with a corset top and sleeves that draped over his upper arms, exposing his slender shoulders and collarbone. It was a gown fit for royalty. For a Princess.

Which also meant, it took more than one person to get into it.

He stepped into the dress and pulled it up over his waist, but the back gaped open completely. He needed someone to lace him into it. His stylists were more than obliging, cooing over his choice and lavishing praise on him until he couldn’t help but blush at their gushing.

“You look like a Princess, from a fairytale! And we are the fairy Godmothers!!”

Akihito smiled wryly at the irony and then gasped as something cold was draped around his throat. His lashes lifted so he could see in the mirror and then he nearly stopped breathing entirely.

It was a necklace, lovely and fine and delicate. Each diamond appeared to be floating in midair, connected by threads of gold so fine they were like silk. They trickled down the sides of his neck and clustered in the hollow of his throat. It was so beautiful. So delicate. So expensive. He touched it reverently, in disbelief.

His fingers were shaking as he opened and read the card the stylist handed him.

_En ta beauté gît ma mort et ma vie._

_Asami Ryuichi_

He swallowed hard.

The ladies took his hands and gently escorted him from the dressing area, adjusting his tiara, smoothing his dress and fluffing his curls as they walked. They stopped in the doorway as two musclebound guards wearing all black moved to flank him, protecting him from both sides as he exited the penthouse and moved into the elevator that would take him down from the tower, down to Asami.

The guards kept their eyes directed ahead, their gazes never dropped to him. They kept their faces carefully averted, their square jaws clenched, their mouth shut. They knew better than to look at him. They knew better than to even talk to Asami’s Princess. The awkward silence left Akihito’s wide blue eyes staring at his own reflection in the shiny doors of the elevator, his throat fluttering, the diamonds sparkling as he tried to desperately to breath, his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt like a bride about to walk down the aisle.... or a tremulous virgin sacrifice awaiting her destiny.

-


	23. Cinderella

 

From the moment the Akihito stepped out onto the stage, Asami was transfixed. His beauty stole the very breath from his lungs. The boy moved gracefully, floating like a dancer in the dark. He wore a stunning dress that swayed and shimmered in the light, moving with his long legs, nipping in his tiny waist and then flaring out. The heart shaped neckline framed his decolletage and the sleeves draped off his slender shoulders.

He looked like a bride. A bride dressed in the prettiest shade of pink; the color of romance and beauty, youth and innocence, gentleness and passion. He was draped in diamonds; sparkling jewels that symbolized true love, from the top of his beautiful head to the tips of his dainty toes. Asami wanted to cover him completely in them, smother him in them, so that he was covered in the physical evidence of Asami’s devotion and love. Physical evidence of just how much Asami valued him. How much Akihito was worth.

Every movement Akihito made spoke of innocent sensuality. It made the Dragon hungry. So hungry. Even though he knew he had just had him, even though he had gone too far the night before, even though it was too soon…. it didn’t matter. It was never enough. He was never truly satiated. Asami wanted him. He thirsted for him, hungered, ached, needed….

The music began to play, the violins strings sang and Asami closed his eyes as Akihito’s stunning voiced washing over him like cleansing rain, bringing him back to life.

 _Hold me close and hold me fast_  
_The magic spell you cast_  
_This is la vie en rose_

 _When you kiss me, heaven sighs_  
_And though I close my eyes_  
_I see la vie en rose_

 _When you press me to your heart_  
_I'm in a world apart_  
_A world where roses bloom_

 _And when you speak, angels, sing from above_  
_Everyday words seem_  
_To turn into love songs_

 _Give your heart and soul to me_  
_And life will always be_  
_La vie en rose_

It was Asami’s favorite song because it was his favorite fantasy. For a moment, he could pretend. He could imagine that Akihito meant the passionate words he sang so beautifully. Asami pretended that Akihito sang to him, not just for him. That he truly loved him, the same way Asami did….

But it was only a fantasy.

And when the music ended, he could no longer pretend.

Akihito sang the words. But he didn’t mean them. Not really.

But he would. Someday. Asami would never give up hope. He would never stop trying. He would never let him go.

Asami stood and began to clap; a standing ovation, for the one who unwittingly held a Dragon's heart in his tiny, precious hands.

Akihito squinted, trying to see beyond the bright stage lights. There was only one person clapping. His heart sank into his stomach. Was he not good…. why wasn’t anyone else clapping? Why….

He moved closer to the edge of the stage, out of the spotlight, where he could see into the club and realized…. no one else was clapping, because no one else was there. The seats were all empty. Every table, every chair. All of Sion, was empty.

Asami stood alone in front of the center of the stage, dressed all in black, his large hands coming together in a slow and steady clap.

He was so confused, “Asami? Why… where is everyone?”

The tall man came to the edge of the stage and took Akihito’s hand in his own, raising it to his lips and kissing it reverently, “I wanted your star to shine for me tonight, and me alone. You’ll forgive your Daddy his selfishness, won’t you Princess?”

Akihito was still confused, he couldn’t believe Asami had cleared out his most popular club, with almost no notice, just for him.

Asami held his arms up expectantly and Akihito walked into them trustingly, allowing Asami to clasp him about the waist and lift him up off the stage, over the older man’s head, sliding him down slowly until his toes touched the floor and then there the older man held him, effortlessly. Akihito couldn’t help but marvel at his strength. He was so, so very strong. And he was so weak. He felt vulnerable and helpless in front of him. Like he was still naked. Truth as, Akihito spent most of his time with Asami naked, while Asami was fully clothed. He often felt that was part of why he felt so vulnerable and helpless in front of him. It was times like this, when he was fully clothed, that he remembered that clothing had nothing to do with it.

It didn’t matter what he wore, he was still naked before Asami. Always.

“Asa-”

Lips brushed his cheek, “Call me Daddy precious.”

Akihito swallowed, his lashes fluttering submissively, “Yes, Daddy.”

Asami bent his head to kiss him, still holding him with his hands wrapped firmly around his waist. He kissed him gently, probing his lips as if asking for entry. Which was crazy, because Asami never asked for anything, he took, he claimed, he conquered. He didn’t ask and yet….

“Will you have dinner with me?”

He asked. Akihito’s eyes flew wide in surprise, “I… yes. Of course.”

Asami tucked Akihito’s hand into the crook of his elbow and escorted him to a table set for two, covered with a white silk tablecloth with large red roses spilling over it. He pulled out a chair, gallantly helping Akihito to spread his voluminous skirt and sit. Asami plucked a rose from the bouquet and held it to his lips, inhaling deeply before handing it to Akihito, “Red, for love”

The boy inhaled as well. It was fragrant, pungent. The smell so sweet and strong it made his head spin. The rose was enormous. He twirled it in his fingers, marveling at it as the first course was laid on the table, brought by white gloved waiters that seemed to materialize, almost as if from thin air.

The food they set the table with made Akihito’s blue eyes light up. It was all sorts of vegetables and meats and seasonings with dumplings and noodles and sauces surrounding a simmering pot of savory broth. It smelled exquisite and looked even more so.

The boy’s mouth dropped open when he realized what it was, “Hot pot??” He cried in shock and Asami chuckled indulgently at his surprise, but his golden eyes glowed as he beheld the boy’s excitement over the meal. He had brought Akihito up feeding him the finest most elegant foods in the world. Haute cuisine from across the globe. The absolute best money could buy. But the truth was, nothing lit him up like the simple things; hot pot, ramen, sushi and pocky. Perhaps there was something defective about his palate, that he preferred such simple meals to the finest gourmet, but Asami found it endearing. Akihito was so wonderfully innocent. Completely unspoiled.

But still, with even such a simple meal, Asami found ways to spoil him, because it pleased him to do so. The beef was the finest Wagyu beef from the Kobe prefecture, cut against the grain to make it even more tender. The scallops were the wild Hokkaido sea scallops, known for their fresh and sweet taste. The pork was Kagoshima Kurobuta, a type of pork considered to be unmatched in its succulent flavor. The mushrooms were Matsutake mushrooms, some of the rarest in the world and costing over one thousand dollars a pound. He had provided all of Akihito’s favorite vegetables and sauces, no matter how rare or out of season. And the noodles were hand made five grain noodles rolled by one of the finest pasta makers in Japan. He had also provided a fine sashimi selection and sushi rolls of fatty tuna and topped by the finest caviar money could buy. As always, when it came to his Princess, Asami spared no expense.

He grinned as Akihito hesitated, his eyes as big as his plate, not sure what delicacy to try first. Asami nudged his chopsticks toward the sushi rolls, “Try those my love. As an appetizer.”

Akihito slipped one into his mouth, parting his full pink lips around the round sushi roll and taking it inside. His cheeks bulged slightly and he moaned as he chewed.

Asami could feel himself growing hard in his suit pants at the sight of Akihito’s obvious pleasure. Watching him eat was intensely arousing for Asami. It was a potent combination of the satisfaction that came from providing for him, fulfilling his needs and the blatant pleasure the boy took in his food. Akihito's manners were exquisite, but his enjoyment as still obvious in the way he carefully picked each piece, his rosy cheeks flushing just a bit from the pleasure, the way he closed his eyes to focus on the texture and flavors. It was so, so sensual.

The food had hardly any flavor to Asami, his enjoyment of the meal came from watching Akihito entirely. Those full lips, that little pink tongue..... His mouth absolutely drove Asami to distraction and his pants soon became uncomfortably tight.

He spoke to head off his burgeoning lust, “How was your day honey? Did you do anything interesting?”

Akihito’s mouth was full of sashimi soaked in mirin and soy sauce and he shook his head, dropping his eyes to the table. Of course, he hadn’t done anything interesting. Asami knew exactly what he had done, the man had made his schedule. He was locked in the penthouse all day, every day. What could he have done that would possibly interest Asami? Asami practically ran the world and he? Well, he was little more than a glorified house cat.

Although… there was one thing that was interesting about his day. The note. What had it said? The words echoed in his mind again....

_Asami thought he killed all of the Takabas….But he missed one…_

That name. Takaba. Akihito felt like he had heard it before, but he couldn’t think of where or when. He wished he could get on the computer to google it, but the parental controls Asami had on his computer were so strong, the internet was practically rendered useless. And then there was the accusation that Asami had killed them. Despite the tenderness Asami always treated him with, Akihito wasn’t blind. He saw the double shoulder holsters that Asami wore. And he knew what Asami carried in them when he was outside of the penthouse. And he had seen glimpsed his men, giant guards carrying assault rifles. Akihito knew he was naive but he wasn’t stupid, they didn’t carry guns for style. Asami carried the weapons because he had need of them. And he had likely used them, many times. So the idea of Asami killing someone was not entirely foreign to Akihito. He had tried to ask him about it but had never gotten the courage up to do so.

And then of course there was the idea that Asami had failed to do something. That he had tried to kill someone and failed. That he may not even know he had failed. That in itself was fascinating too…..

Akihito stopped eating. He found himself drifting in thought, frowning as he tried to understand what the cryptic message might mean, if anything… until Asami interrupted him.

“Whats wrong Princess? You seem quiet.”

He lifted his eyes and noticed Asami studying him intently from across the table, “Oh no its nothing! It just I…”

Akihito took a deep breath. What could it hurt anyway? To just ask? He blurted it out, “Who were the Takabas?”

It was like a cold wind had swept across the room. Akihito could practically feel the temperature drop. Something changed in Asami’s expression. His face seemed to literally harden, turning to stone as he stood. He leaned over the table and the look in his eyes chilled Akihito to the bone. It pinned him back in the seat.

“Where did you hear that name?”

He shook his head, “N-Nowhere, I just…. remembered it.”

Asami’s eyes narrowed, “You remembered it. What else did you remember?”

His skin prickled at the insinuation. That there WAS something else to remember. Something that Asami didn’t want him to remember…. Akihito realized with perfect clarity that the name Takaba definitely had something to do with him. With his past. And that maybe the man who gave him the note hadn’t been drunk or crazy after all. Maybe he had said exactly what he what to say…. to exactly the person he wanted to say it to…

Asami was trying to hide something from him. But then again… what was new? The older man never told him anything. Never let him do anything. Never let him even so much as think for himself or make a single decision. His frustrations mounted and Akihito suddenly felt absolutely furious.

The boy glared up at him stubbornly refusing to answer the question, “What does it matter? What so important about that name?”

Asami stared down at him silently, realizing his error immediately. He had handled this wrong. Obviously, Akihito didn’t remember what the name had to do with him. Asami had been careful to screen all the media that came into the house, but obviously he had missed something. It wasn’t a common name but it wasn’t completely obscure. Perhaps he had seen it in a book or on the TV or maybe it was the name of a video game character. There were many places he could have heard the name and of course it would spark some familiarity in him. But that didn’t mean the boy would remember why. But the fact that Asami was making a big deal of it…. thats what Akihito was picking up on. That was all.

Asami immediately gentled his face and stance. “Nothing. Its not important. It has nothing to do with you.”

He knew he was lying. Akihito looked down at his plate, but he had lost his appetite. Asami seemed to sense it and moved to help him out of his chair, “I’m sorry to have ruined our special dinner. Come, dance with me and let’s forget all about it.”

The boy nodded submissively and let Asami escort him across the floor, but the older man could tell Akihito was still unsettled. Asami could feel the guilt prickling his conscious. He should never have reacted like that, so strongly. It was simply that he hadn’t heard that name…. in years and it was the last thing he expected Akihito to say. But it meant nothing. Just coincidence. He lifted that delicate hand to his lips and kissed it reverently. Akihito was his, he would remain his. He didn’t know and he would never know what the name Takaba really meant to him.

He placed his arm around Akihito’s tiny waist, pressing his hand into curve of the boy’s lower back, gently leading him into a slow waltz, in time with the music playing in the background. They were all songs Asami selected personally. His favorites. As they glided across the dance floor, he held him closely. Akihito had grown so much and yet he was still so small. All these years and he still fit perfectly in his arms, the top of his golden head stopping inches below Asami’s chin. He loved seeing the crown atop those golden curls and lowered his head to smell them. He was mesmerized by the scent; flowers, combined with the delicate perfume and the natural smell of his body. It was intoxicating. But what he was bewitched by the most was simply his presence.

Akihito, his precious baby, his lover…. his bride….. was perfection personified. His voluptuous, golden curls draped down around his delicate shoulders, flowing to the curve of his waist. His eyes were of the purest blue, sparkling in the candlelight, like the sky, captured just for him. The gown he wore was like something from a fairytale. It was a floor length, flowing gown of the purest pink chiffon adorning and complementing with luxurious perfection, the curvature of his beautiful body. He was truly breathtaking. A vision of heaven on Earth. Like an angel, with the face and the body of Venus herself. Truly breathtaking.

He twirled Akihito gracefully around the ballroom floor focusing on his movements, on his grace, on that sensual, supple body; a body he had held and embraced for fifteen long years and he knew he would hold, embrace and make love to Akihito for years to come; with joy, gratitude and rapture.

Every now and then the boy tripped or fell out of step. The Viennese waltz was not easy. It required precise timing and placement of one’s feet to avoiding going down in a tangled mess. He stumbled once or twice, but Asami never let him fall. Not once. He held him gently but firmly, guiding him, allowing no escape and no injury. But still, the boy seemed distressed. Akihito’s brows were furrowed, his breathing was stressed and there was a fine sheen of sweat beading on his collarbone. He was tense, overly focused and unable to enjoy the magic of the moment. Asami smiled. He could help him with that, a simple trick they had used when Akihito was younger and just learning to dance. It was simple, basic and allowed the training dancer to focus on simply feeling and moving their body in space, listening to the music and trusting their partner. And for a dance like the Viennese waltz, it required complete faith in one’s partner.

He slowed to a stop in the middle of the floor and held the boy closely to him, lifting his chin, and looking deeply into those beautiful, worried eyes. Akihito had no reason to be embarrassed, it was just the two of them. The guards were on strict orders to keep their distance from the ballroom. Perhaps, Akihito was concerned Asami would be mad because of his dancing. But Asami could never bring himself to truly be angry with Akihito. He took that angelic face tenderly in his hands and raised silken rose lips to meet his, kissing him softly, “Akihito, precious, just relax. Everything is alright. Daddy’s got you. Don’t you trust me?”

Akihito didn’t answer. He swallowed hard as if the words were stuck in his throat. His pulse was pounding. Asami frowned at his lack of response. All the more reason Akihito needed this little exercise, to reinforce his trust and submission. He slowly turned him around and forced Akihito to lean back against his chest as he removed his tie and slipped it over Akihito’s eyes, enveloping him in darkness.

Akihito’s fingers flew to his face to touch the blindfold and his hands were intercepted by Asami’s. The older man walked slowly around him. One of his hands was kept in a dancer’s grip while the other was placed on Asami’s bulging bicep. Slowly he began to move again and Akihito had no choice but to follow.

Usually being blindfolded actually helped him dance better. It filtered all extraneous information, allowing him to focus completely on following, being led by Asami.

But this time, it didn’t help. Not at all.

If anything, it made things worse. His mind was swirling with questions. He knew Asami was lying. He knew it in his bones. He knew that the name Takaba had something to do with him. Something to do with his mother…. his mother and a blindfold and a waltz….. the song changed into one that was hauntingly familiar. One he remembered as a baby, from another time and another life and suddenly, as his breathing caught in his chest and his feet stopped moving, Akihito realized he knew exactly why the name Takaba was so familiar…..

-

 


	24. The Red Shoes

- 

He fell.

 

And he fell hard.

 

Asami tried to catch him, but Akihito didn’t let him. He shoved the older man’s hand away as fast and as strong as he could, preferring to hit the ground rather than let Asami touch him. He fell on his hip, bruising his side and thigh, as the air was pushed from his lungs. He lay there for a moment in pain and shock as Asami moved to kneel over him, “Princess, baby, Im so sorry, are you-”

Akihito jerked his arm away, “Don’t touch me!”

Dark brows drew low as he completely ignored Akihito’s request, grabbing him and picking him up off the floor and sitting him on the edge of the stage. He pushed and shoved at the older man, hitting his chest as hard as he could but Asami was immovable, grabbing his hands and pinning both them in one of his own. He gripped the back of Akihito neck firmly, like one might hold a disobedient puppy, “Akihito, no. No. You don’t hit your Daddy.”

He hissed in pain, his blue eyes glaring, “You are not my father.”

Asami leaned down, his nostrils flaring at the words. He came close, hissing in anger, “No, Princess. I’m not.”

And with that, he pinned Akihito down to the stage, flat on his back, pressing his legs apart with his torso. Aki winced at the the sharp grasp of his hand around his neck. He gasped hard, and the hand pushed even stronger against him, pinning him down helplessly, holding him there. It tightened, threatening to cut off his air, keeping him from speaking.

His heart was racing with fear. His mind was scrambling to put the pieces together even as he strained to break free from Asami’s iron-clad grip. Suddenly Akihito felt his dress pushed up to his waist, exposing his legs as Asami’s hands delved underneath the voluminous skirt, a strong hand moving up between his thighs. He struggled to close them, but it was useless. The stronger man bent low, humming into his ear, “Ssssh Princess. I know what you need. I’ll take care of you. You need to feel me, to know I’m in control, to let go and give yourself to me. To feel safe again. I know Princess, I know what you need. Daddy always knows.”

The air was cold between his legs and Asami’s touch felt like a brand. It was burning him. Akihito began to cry, his body silently shaking with sobs even as he burned to breath, wailing in pain. His trust had been shattered. His Daddy had lied to him. Betrayed him. A horrible burning pain consumed his heart and his mind and his soul. His cries were more like screams. Akihito had never cried like that before. Not ever.

Immediately Asami responded, releasing him and letting his throat go. It was a technique that usually calmed Akihito right down when he was upset. But this time, it was only making him worse. He sounded like he was injured. Like he was in physical pain, not just emotionally upset. The fall must have injured him worse than he thought. Asami pulled his skirt down and sat him up, squeezing his upper arms. “What is it Akihito, where are you hurt? Show me.”

The boy shook his head, turning from him and he tried to hide the tears streaming from his face. Asami grabbed his chin, forcing the boy to make eye contact with him, “Where are you hurt Akihito?”

Akihito closed his blue eyes, and the teardrops hovered in his long lashes, before dropping onto the expensive fabric of his dress. His voice was low and soft but full of raw, aching pain, “You lied to me.”

Asami’s heart began to beat double time. It quickened in his chest with a cold sensation he would have called fear, had he been any other man. A lesser man. Which he was not. His heart rate slowed through sheer force of will. Asami breathed in deeply and kept his voice low and soothing as if speaking to a wounded animal, “What is it you think I lied to you about?”

“My name.”

Asami growled, “Your name is Asami Akihito. You have no other. You need no other. Who you were in the past, no longer matters. It is irrelevant.”

Blue eyes glared furiously up at him, “Then tell me the truth, if it matters so little. Can’t you at least do that?”

He sighed, looking down at the boy, what did it matter, it was just a name. What harm could it possibly do? There was no way he would ever know the rest of the story.

“Your name was… Takaba Akihito. A long time ago.”

Akihito’s mind was spinning. It felt like the room around him was spinning. He felt something inside himself break. If that was true, and his family name was actually Takaba… If that was true then… the rest of the note was true….

It took everything he had to say the words.

Quietly and calmly as he searched Asami’s face for the truth, “My family didn’t die in a fire. Did they?”

It was a question and it wasn’t. Something inside Akihito already knew the truth. And as he looked into Asami’s eyes, and read inside them an emotion he had never seen in them before…. he knew. He knew. Because never before, had he seen Asami afraid. And he was now. Very, very afraid. The older man hid it, almost immediately. But Akihito had seen it. Just for an instant. Just a flicker. But it was all the answer he needed.

And it changed everything.

He could feel his whole world crashing down, roaring in his ears.

The words on the note flashed into his mind again.

Asami thought he killed all of the Takabas….But he missed one…

He killed them, his family, but he left one Takaba alive. Takaba Akihito. Him. Which meant there was really only one question left, “So why…. why didn’t you kill me too?”

Asami’s gaze was unflinching and utterly placid. He looked completely unperturbed. The mask was back in place and for a moment, Akihito almost doubted what he had seen. There was no fear in those golden eyes when he responded calmly, “I didn’t kill your family Akihito.”

He lied so easily. So convincingly. He sounded so truthful. His voice was earnest and full of confidence, his tone soothing, placating, like he was trying to pacify a crazy person. Akihito shook his head to clear it, he knew what he had seen in Asami’s eyes. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t. Asami was.

He swallowed hard squeezing his own eyes closed, “You’re lying. Stop. Lying. To me.”

Asami leaned in close to him and took hold of his chin firmly, “You will trust me.”

Akihito proudly spoke the words he knew in his heart to be true, “No. I won’t. Never again”

His voice was quiet, but the words rang loud in the silence. White hot anger flashed across the older man’s face and his jaw spasmed. Asami’s fingers dug into Akihito’s cheeks hard enough to bruise. “You need me.”

“Not anymore.”

Suddenly the tiara on Akihito’s head felt like a weight, dragging him down. The necklace felt like a collar around his neck. The heels, like shackles around his ankles. He was a prisoner, drowning under the weight of fifteen years of lies.

With trembling hands, he reached into his hair and pulled his crown off, tearing out some of his golden hair by the roots. He didn’t even feel the pain as he threw the diamond tiara into Asami’s face, “I’m eighteen now. I don’t need you. I don’t need this. I don’t want it and I don’t want you!”

Next Akihito’s hands flew to the jewels around his throat. Asami’s hand moved to clasp his fingers, trying to pull them away from the necklace. In the struggle, the silken threads broke, scattering the diamonds across the floor like teardrops. Asami’s face went dark, twisting into a jealous rage. He grabbed at the boy, trying to restrain him. The more he tried to hold him down, the harder Akihito fought, twisting and writhing in his grip. He kicked with his legs, lashing out with his thighs, strong from years of yoga and Tai Chi, slamming the point of his heel into Asami’s abdomen.

He went down with a groan, releasing his hold on Akihito completely. The boy took his chances, throwing himself towards the back door of the club, but the huge skirt and the high heels made him slow and threw him off balance. Asami’s hand lashed out, fisting in the hem of his dress and stopping him in his tracks. Akihito fell forward onto his face, crying out from the impact. He lay on his belly for a moment in stun as Asami drew up onto his hands and knees, coming up behind him menacingly.

His strong fingers gripped the back of Akihito’s waist, twining into the laces of the corset while the other hand pulled the skirt apart, shredding the delicate fabric like tissue paper.

Akihito strained to push himself up off the floor but Asami’s hand in the middle of his back held him down effortlessly until he cried out, “Let me go! Asami! Let me go!”

He could feel the skirt of the dress separate from the torso, coming apart at the seams with a loud, harsh ripping sound. He could feel the cold air of the room on his buttocks and thighs as the fabric was torn down his thrashing legs, “Never. I will never let you stray from my grasp. You belong to me.”

He could feel his legs pushed apart, exposing the vulnerable opening of his body. Tears streamed down his face as he realized what Asami was about to do. He flinched as the older man spit on him, the wet saliva hitting his anus with a splat.

“Please. Please don’t do this.”

“Who can satisfy you but me? No one. No one knows you better than me. No one can take care of you like I can.” Wet fingers pressed inside him and began to thrust in and out, coaxing a response from his unwilling body. He could feel himself begin to respond and whimpered in humiliation but he said nothing.

The fingers began to move more roughly, and two became three, harshly stretching his tender hole, the pain blending with the pleasure and sparking behind his wet eyes. “It hurts Asami, please! It hurts!”

Immediately the fingers were withdrawn and Akihito was flipped over onto his back. The Princess’s beautiful, despairing, tear filled eyes looked into the hot glowing eyes of a Dragon on fire. Burning everything in his path. Akihito sobbed as he stared into his future. He knew in his soul that Asami would never let him go. He would tie him up, tie him down, lock him away forever.

He sobbed as Asami took the key around from his neck, removed the cockcage from his limp member and then began to molest his genitals, coaxing him to an erection. His eyes never left Akihito’s face, “You want so badly to be free don’t you? But you don’t understand what you really need. I do. I know how to take care of you. The only freedom you will ever have is in my hand. All thing you need to do is receive me and only me. Know that it is my member inside you as you cry out and know that I will never, ever let you go.”

He pressed his thighs wide and Akihito turned his head and closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to see what was coming. It didn’t stop it. He tensed as he heard the rip of Asami’s zipper. and he screamed as Asami pressed inside him, entering him forcibly, with only the barest of lubrication, opening him from the inside and forcing his body to blossom. The pain was scorching, searing and he knew he had been ripped open. He could feel the hot, wet blood pouring out of his hole and lubricating Asami’s passage into him.

He felt Asami’s head fist in the back of his hair, gripping it and turning his head, forcing it up and forward, twisting in his hair until Akihito’s eyes opened. He stared up at him through his tears, his small body moving back and forth on the floor as Asami shoved himself into him, pounding against his inner thighs and groin in a sexual display that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with establishing power and control over him. It was rape. Asami was raping him.

Akihito began to cry harder, kicking his heels weakly against Asami’s back, “Please. Please stop. Please…..”

“Never, I’ll never stop. Never.”

He buried his face in Akihito’s throat, biting and kissing the tender skin as Akihito’s hands tentatively crept up his sides, under his suitcoat. The physical pain was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Akihito moaned as his eyes fluttered closed. He felt numb. Like he was leaving his body, hovering above it. Watching his Daddy rape him, pounding into his fragile body like he was trying to break him. Break him so he could put him back together. Make him into Asami’s perfect little doll again.

He just wanted it to stop. His hands crept up Asami’s strong sides until he felt the leather holsters.

And the cold metal inside.....

Asami didn’t notice until the barrel of the Beretta was pressed against his temple and he heard the click of the safety being turned off.

“Let me go.”

The older man froze. Akihito’s hand did not waver. It did not so much as tremble. “Get OFF of me.”

He slowly and carefully withdrew from inside Akihito. It was like a cork being pulled from a bottle. He could feel the blood flowing in rivulets now. It was as if his insides were crying, tears pouring out from between his legs. He pulled them together painfully and began to scoot himself backwards away from Asami with one hand, the other keeping the Beretta trained on the darkhaired man. He crawled slowly, smearing the blood with his calves and feet, outlining his struggle in red.

For the first time, Asami seemed to notice it, the fierce anger fading from his face, replaced by horror and regret, his hand reaching out.

“Oh God baby… I…”

“Don’t. Just… Don’t. Don’t.”

He stood shakily, balancing carefully in his diamond heels. The tatters of his beautiful ballgown hung in shreds around his hips, barely concealing his privates. Blood trickled slowly down the insides of his thighs, its path stopped only briefly by the straps of his heels before it soaked them too, covering the glittering diamonds in red.

Red, for love, he thought to himself.

Asami stayed on his knees, his palms open and helpless on his thighs. His eyes were vacant as he stared at the scarlet trail of blood on the floor.

Akihito looked at him through glassy eyes. He looked like a stranger. Someone Akihito didn’t even know. He wanted to leave. Now. Right now. He took another step backwards, towards the door, lowering the gun, “I’m… I’m going to go now.”

Asami’s golden eyes snapped back to awareness, “No. No you’re not. You’re hurt Akihito….”

The gun came back up as his broken voice cried out, “And whose fault is that?!”

He stood, holding his hands out, “I know. I know. And Im sorry baby, I would never mean to hurt you. Im so sorry....” His voice cracked like a broken record as he stepped forward, “I’m so sorry”

“Don’t come any closer.”

The other man took another step forward and Akihito felt his finger tighten on the trigger involuntarily, “STOP!”

Asami shook his head desolately, “I can’t. Don’t you see? Don’t you know? I can’t. You can’t live without me. And I…. I can’t live without you. I can’t let you leave.”

The powerful man came closer, his loafers shining in the low light, his clothing rumpled, his hair wild. His eyes were fixed on Akihito, like a sailor in a storm, searching for the shore, looking for the light that would guide him home.

Akihito’s hand trembled and the corners of his mouth quaked, “Please. Don’t make me do this.”

Asami’s hand drifted into his suitcoat and Akihito watched in stun. He expected him to go for his other gun. He could have easily gone for his gun. But that wasn’t what was in his hand when he pulled it back out. It was a small velvet box. He flicked it open and inside was a ring, glittering with an enormous diamond. He slowly bent to his knee, “Please. Don’t leave me.”

The boy didn’t realize he was crying until the tears began to roll down his cheeks, “I can’t stay.”

“You can’t go.”

Akihito took a step backward, “I CAN’T STAY. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that I’m unhappy? That you are killing me?”

Asami shook his head, “I’m protecting you.”

“From what?!”

“From the world…. from yourself.”

How could he make him understand? This wasn’t good for them, not either of them, “I don’t need you to protect me anymore. Im not a child anymore Asami. I’m leaving you. Tonight. And I’m not going coming back.”

Asami rose to his feet, the diamond ring still in his hand, “I can’t let you do that.”

Akihito’s chin lifted, “You can’t stop me.”

He watched Asami slowly begin to circle around him, the Beretta in his hand tracking the older man’s movements. He moved to stand between Akihito and the door, “If I’m to die, I would rather it be by your hand. If you want to leave, you’ll have to kill me first…. For one who has had his heart stolen by you, this is the only way. ”

Asami stood tall, between him and the door. His arms spread wide, his palms facing forward. Akihito had seen him like this so many times before, welcoming him home, into the comfort of an embrace…..

Akihito’s lips pressed so tightly together they turned white, “Please don’t make me do this. Just get out of the way. Just let me GO.” His voice broke on the last word, cracking under the pressure. The Beretta was aimed at his heart.

Asami strode forward, reaching out to grasp ahold of him, “No Princess, no, I….”

The boy flinched back in fear, his hands squeezing involuntarily.

The shot that rang out was deafening, echoing on the walls of the empty club. The recoil from the discharge startled Akihito and he dropped the smoking gun onto the floor as if he had been burned. Asami still stood in front of him, frozen in time, as a spot of red appeared on his white shirt above his heart. Akihito watched it spread.

Like an inkblot. Or a watercolor. A brush dipped in red and left to sit on an empty page, rings of color bleeding out and out and out. The vibrant color covered the front of his shirt and he slowly fell forward onto his knees, clutching his heart as he splayed forward onto the ground The diamond ring fell from Asami’s hands into the puddle of blood that grew around him. The pure, sparkling gem was soon coated in red.

Red, for love, Akihito thought.

He stared down at the motionless body on the ground like he was a stranger. Someone Akihito hardly knew. He stared down in horror as that puddle grew, slowly pooling and soaking the carpet under his feet. He backed away, disgusted by the way the hot liquid squished between his toes.

For a moment he was overcome by vertigo. His head began to spin, it felt like he was falling, fainting…. The sound of running feet woke him. Large feet, wearing heavy boots, running towards him; him and a smoking gun and their boss on the ground at his feet. Akihito gasped in fear. Looking for an escape. The door. It was less than ten feet away.

The footsteps were growing closer. He could hear voices now. If he was going to run it had to be now.

Now.

Now.

He felt like a marionette with the strings cut, unable to move on its own.

Akihito tried to run, but his feet slipped in the blood and he fell to his knees. The high heels were soaked and slippery. He reached down, frantically trying to undo the buckles. He couldn’t grasp them, couldn’t manipulate the clasps with his fingers covered in slick, hot blood. The guards were almost on him. He gasped and ripped them from his feet, the thin straps cutting into his skin, scraping a layer of skin off as he pulled off his shackles, one by one.

His eyes met Asami’s. They were fixed on him, those large, strong hands reaching out, fumbling and grasping desperately at Akihito’s right ankle. His fingers gripped it, squeezing as if to keep Akihito there, to trap him, just for a moment longer….

He pulled his right foot away easily from the older man’s weakening grasp and ran. Akihito ran barefoot out into the dark night, leaving his diamond slippers behind. He didn’t look back.

-

 


	25. The Little Match Girl

It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the streets of Shinjuku and the snow was falling lightly. In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the streets. Her legs were naked and streaked with blood, as were her fingertips. Her blue eyes were glassy and blank. Many noticed her plight, but none took action. They were busy; they had somewhere to be, they did not wish to draw attention to themselves or to get involved. They felt if the girl were truly in trouble she could stop and use one of the many police boxes to dial for help or perhaps go into one of the stores. It wasn’t their concern. There were many other people around, surely one of them could help her…. it wasn’t their problem. There were many reasons that the people passing by did not stop to help her, but that didn’t change the fact that no one did. Not one person who saw her, of the crowds of people that passed by, stopped to make sure she was alright or to see if they could do something.

And so the young girl went on with her little naked feet, which were scraped and bleeding, quite red and blue with the cold. Shivering with cold and pain and shock, she stumbled along, looking the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.

The crowds swirled by her, careful not to get too close, for if they knocked her down, they would surely have to stop and help her up and then someone might find them responsible for her plight. They would end up calling attention to themselves. No, no, no. The risk of embarrassment was simply too great. Someone else would help her. But not them. Anyone but them.

Swept along by the crowd, the girl found herself standing in the middle of Shinjuku station. Bright lights shone down on her, illuminating every bruise, every scrape, the streaks of blood and path of her tears. But still, no one stopped. They walked by, their eyes averted from her near naked body, pulling their own heavy coats tighter about themselves as if to ward off the cold she was feeling. Occasionally someone laughed nervously or pointed at her. Groups of teens tittered and adults looked away.

Finally a young policemen happened upon the girl. At first, even he was unwilling to approach her. She was standing, she was walking and her eyes were wide open. Surely if she needed help, she would ask him...

He stood there uncomfortably, awkwardly, wondering if she had seen him or not. His crisp blue uniform with the shining buttons and yellow insignia stood out of the crowd quite obviously. But she didn’t seem to see him, even when she looked right at him. She seemed confused and disoriented. Perhaps it was drugs. Or perhaps she had been injured. She was so very beautiful, even in her disarray, with long blond locks and her slender figure. She was ethereally beautiful.

Too beautiful to be real.

The longer he watched her, the more unsettled he became. The young policeman was from a small village, where old superstitions and folklore was still quite prevalent. He couldn’t get the legend of the onryō out of his mind. Onryos were always said to be beautiful, white and slender females, dressed in blood-stained clothes with long hair covering their faces. Onryos were beautiful women in life, lovely and pure, who had been betrayed by their lover. In death, they became punishers to the abusive and brutal men toward innocent and weak females.

She seemed like a ghost.

And the way the people passed by her as if they didn’t even see her, only added to his fear.

With nervous trepidation, he approached her. Her golden hair hung in ringlets about her face and he couldn’t see through the heavy locks. The legends said that when the restless ghosts of onryos became angry, their hair flew back, revealing a deformed face or sometimes... no face at all.

His hand shook as it touched her shoulder and he nearly jumped back when she whirled around to look up at him. Her face wasn’t deformed at all.

A chill ran along his spine as he continued to stare at her, it didn’t seem possible. Such a creature didn’t exist. It was a strange and sad feeling; like vertigo. Like falling into a pit that he knew he would never climb out of. He knew then that every woman he ever saw, from that moment on, he would hold next to her and compare. And they would come up short. Always.

Her eyes were blue, a clear radiant blue and her sooty lashes were impossibly long, fluttering and glistening with unshed tears. Her full lips trembled and even though her cheeks were pale and streaked with tears and smudges of blood, it did little to dampen her beauty. It only made her seem more fragile and breakable. She had petite features on a small face, petite but perfect. Absolutely perfect.

An angel, he thought crazily to himself. A fallen angel. Cast out of heaven, broken and lost and helpless. And he had found her, he would save her.

For a moment she seemed to stumble, inhaling deeply, clutching at his uniform with her slender fingers like a lifeline. He grasped her slender shoulders to help support her. She looked at him, shaking her head, her eyes empty and unfocused, as if she was looking through him, not at him.

Her lips moved in a language he couldn’t understand, her voice soft and lilting, “Je ne sais pas qui je suis”

He shook his head in confusion, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Do you speak Japanese miss?”

She took a deep breath. Tears welled in her eyes as she repeated after him like a parrot, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry”

Like a broken record, over and over again, she said the words, until her eyes rolled back and she fell forward into his arms, her small body going limp. People still continued to walk around them, giving them space, like a stream passing by pebbles, parting and swirling, but no one stopped.

The ambulance came quickly, the EMT’s lifting her small helpless body onto the stretcher, strapping her in and whisking her away. He jogged alongside, unwilling to let her out of his sight, absently recounting to the paramedics how he had found her.

Her head rolled to the side, her long, dark lashes closed over her pale cheeks as the stretcher was lifted into the ambulance. One of the paramedics tried to shut the door and he grabbed it, not even aware he had done so until the other man looked at him in surprise.

“You can follow along behind, if you want.”

The young policeman nodded in embarrassment, withdrawing his hand from the handle and letting the EMT close the door. Almost immediately, the ambulance took off into the night, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The policeman followed behind for as long as he could. He was only a foot patrolman, he had no squad car. But still, he ran behind it, for as long as he possibly could….

It was obvious to the emergency room staff. There was no question, no hesitation. No one at the hospital stood around wondering what had happened to the unconscious girl. One look was all an experienced nurse or doctor needed to see the signs.

The truth was, even though reported rapes were low in Japan, it didn’t mean that they weren’t just as common as anywhere else. Rape in Japan was still highly stigmatized, seen as something that arose as result of the victims’ behavior, rather than the actions of the rapists. Rape was also glamorized in Japan in the popular literature; fetishing it and making it seem like a fantasy, rather than a crime. Many common tropes in mangas included sexual objectification of females and double standards in terms of female and male sexuality. In addition, the stories were often written in such a way that the female character’s responsibility, and at times, her sole function, was to change the flawed male character for the better. Endless servility was expected of the female characters. They were constantly depicted as tolerant and endlessly loyal to male characters, regardless of how badly they were treated. This concept was horrifically detrimental to women because it widely perpetuated the idea that men had the right to treat women however they pleased. Moreover, it excused the men from their actions because it presented them as unable to help themselves. ‘Boys will be boys’. The woman was simply ‘an irresistible object’ and he was ’compelled’ to ‘claim’ her. When all of this was combined with a cultural attitude that looked down on those who called attention to themselves, the fear of social stigma and a police force that was almost entirely male, it created an incredible barrier to reporting rape.

Some victims' support groups estimated that rape cases in Japan amounted to more than twenty times the National Police Agency's official figure and far fewer were ever prosecuted. Sex crimes against foreign women, bar hostesses or other women working in entertainment districts are treated especially lightly. But the injuries were obvious to those who worked in the emergency rooms of the Shinjuku hospital.

They weren’t paid to judge or to prosecute. They were paid to heal.

And that was what they did.

The young woman was nearly naked, she was covered in bruises and there were bite marks on her neck. There were visible handprints on her arms and legs and her bare feet were a mess. She had obviously walked for a very long time with no shoes. Blood was streaked down her legs, concentrated between her inner thighs.

The young nurse on staff bit her lip to prevent the tears from welling up. She knew that that amount of blood was unlikely to have come from a vaginal assault. The vagina was far more elastic, with thick walls and even in an unaroused state, the mucous secretions provided some protection during a sexual assault. Even in very extreme cases, there was often only bruising and swelling with only minor abrasions and tearing, which is why sometimes rape could be very difficult physically to distinguish from vigorous consensual intercourse. The anus was a different story. The mucosal membranes were far more delicate, very thin, very vascularized and secreted very little lubrication. Many anal rapes resulted in terrible internal injuries, with lacerations and tearing not only of the external sphincter but also of the internal structure of the rectum. Damage to the muscles could result in painful hemorrhoids or even rectal prolapse and permanent incontinence. Some victims had to be given colostomies due to the damage, just to allow their bodies time to heal. It almost always resulted in bleeding, open wounds inside the anus. If those wounds were ejaculated into, it put the victim at a very, very high risk of contracting STDs. Rates of HIV transmission were seventeen times higher during anal intercourse than vaginal.

The young nurse was no stranger to rape, working in this hospital, so close to the Kabukicho and Shinjuku entertainment districts of Tokyo. Kabukicho was the largest red light district in Asia; an area of over one hundred square blocks near Shinjuku Station's east exit. Kabukicho featured countless restaurants, bars, karaoke, hostess clubs, love hotels, and red light establishments. Many businesses in Kabukicho were owned or controlled by the yakuza and it was well known to be one of Japan's most dangerous neighbourhoods.

Many, many women came through their emergency room doors. Very few to report rape. Most wanted only to treat their injuries. Injuries from their pimps and their johns and their boyfriends. Sometimes from all three, new injuries covering over old ones, like a quilt of scars that told the sad story of their lives. Rape was a common fantasy, and in a place like Kabukicho, every fantasy was for sale.

But for the girls who came through the late night ER, it wasn't a fantasy at all.

Even though the girl’s injuries seemed far more severe than most, it didn’t surprise the young nurse. She was very beautiful, likely innocent and naive, taken advantage of those who liked to prey on such things. She was quickly transferred into a private exam room and transferred onto an examination table, her slender legs strapped into stirrups and spread so that the doctor on call could examine and treat her internal injuries. And that was when the emergency room staff noticed that the girl… was not a girl.

The doctor paused in surprise for a moment, but he hardly skipped a beat. He cut the remaining clothes from the young boy’s body, placing the remnants in sealed paper bags with his gloves on, careful to catch any falling debris or hair fibers. He carefully, evaluated his external injuries, the bruises, bite marks and abrasions. His bare feet were scraped and cut and there was glass embedded in the heel of his right foot, next to a circular scar that looked much older. Photographs were taken of the damage to his limbs, feet and anus.

His perineum and inner thighs were bruised and abraded. Unfortunately, he had no pubic hair which often yielded useful particulates. He was examined under a Wood’s lamp to detect semen stains. None were found. The nurse felt hope jump into her throat at that. Physical injuries and mental traumas would heal, it was the diseases that seeped into the blood that one could never truly be free from.

A speculum lubricated only with water was inserted and the wings were gently spread so that the physician could examine him internally for injuries. There was some scraping and bruising and one small laceration on his sphincter, right over a blood vessel, which explained all of the bleeding. The physician swabbed his rectum internally, but he saw no secretions, even under the light. A small amount of sterile saline was instilled into his anus and then reaspirated. It would be examined for semen, no matter how trace, they would do their best to find it.

The attending was a good man and good at forensics, even though his skills were rarely called upon. He took his responsibilities to his patients seriously, and if this boy wanted to prosecute his rapist when he woke up, he would make every effort to help the boy do so. All the specimens would be sealed and kept in a locked box until the boy awoke, if he wished to prosecute, the evidence would be turned over to the police.

Blood was taken to determine a baseline serology to screen him for STDs and an IV was started. When he awoke, it would be determined if the boy wanted to take post exposure prophylaxis for HIV. It was against protocol to administer the drug without patient permission. The doctor was no fool as to why. It was an expensive medication, a cocktail of several anti-retrovirals to stop the HIV virus from replicating in the blood stream, and it was not paid for by the government so the hospital wanted to make sure the patient could pay for it before it was administered.

It wasn’t right, but it was the way things were.

Once the exam was finished, the boy’s rectum was again rinsed with saline and an analgesic and anusol suppository was inserted. The corticosteroid helped keep the swelling of the anal mucosa to a minimum so as not to exacerbate the torn fissure.

The glass was removed from his right foot and then both feet were cleaned, wrapped and bandages. The young nurse administered a sponge bath to clean off the rest of the dirt and blood from his body as best she could before the boy was transferred off of the exam table and back onto a rollaway bed. The upper levels of the hospital catered to a wealthier clientele and each patient had a private room, but on this level, most patients did not get their own rooms. The hospital emergency ward was a large, long room with curtain dividers set up between the patient beds. The nurse placed the young boy in the quietest corner away from the admissions area. There was nowhere in the emergency ward that could truly be considered quiet, but this was the best available. She fussed over him, making sure his hospital gown wasn’t twisted, that his bandages weren’t constricting, before drawing the sheets over his body.

She was just placing an extra blanket on him when she noticed blue eyes staring at her blearily.

The young nurse smiled down at him, “Hello.”

His voice was hoarse and raspy, and very soft, “Hello.”

“Do you know where you are?”

He shook his head, biting his lip as he looked around at the busy emergency room. There were people hustling and bustling everywhere, but no one paid them any attention.

“You are in the Emergency Room of the Shinjuku Hospital. Do you remember how you got here?”

Another shake of the head.

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

A slow nod and she could see comprehension coming back into his eyes, along with fear and he started to tremble. She softened her voice even further.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His eyes squeezed closed and his lips pressed together as he shook his head again.

She squeezed his hand. “Ok. You don’t have to talk about it. Maybe in the morning?”

He nodded unenthusiastically, his gazed fixed on the nubby fabric of the blanket.

“How about some juice and medicine?” Pretty blue eyes looked at her suspiciously and she was again struck at how incredibly lovely the boy was with those golden curls and rosy lips. He was prettier than any girl she had ever seen.

She held two pills out in her right palm and a cup of juice.

“Ibuprofen 800 and a stool softener… you’ll thank me later.” She winked at her sad joke.

The corner of his lip quirked up and she grinned as he took both pills and swallowed them down, drinking the rest of the juice thirstily. She poured him another cup and he drank that too. A little bit of color came back into his cheeks.

“Thank you.”

She patted his hand again and urged him to lie back. “If you need to go number one, there’s a urinal right here. If you need to go number two, call one of the nurses to help you. The button is right there. Your feet were in pretty bad shape, I want you to stay off of them ok?”

“Ok.”

“Promise?”

He nodded again and she stood, tugging the curtains closed around his bed until it was as dark and private as it could get. Which wasn’t very dark or quiet at all, but there was nothing she could do about that. “Get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

The young nurse knew she was violating protocol as she walked away. As soon as the patient was awake, she should have alerted the attending. She should have gone about collecting an accurate medical history, getting a name, address, phone number, health insurance ID. Then the police should have been called over to get a detailed account of the assault and the perpetrator. She knew thats what she should have done… and yet, the look in his eyes. The boy looked… shattered. Devastated. As if he had lost everything and everyone he loved that night....

Perhaps, she had violated protocol, but she had protected her patient. He was barely holding it together and in no condition to be interrogated. He needed rest and quiet. Whatever horrors had happened to him could wait until the morning. Whoever had done those things to him was long gone by now. The young nurse frowned and shook her head sadly. Who could do such a thing? And to such a beautiful, fragile looking young boy. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Or perhaps he was small for his age. Regardless, only a monster could do such a thing to a child. And just this once, just this once.... the nurse _wished_ that that monster responsible would be made to pay for his sins.

What the young nurse didn’t realize was that the monster was much closer than she realized.

The Dragon had been life flighted to the very same hospital nearly thirty minutes before the young boy was brought in. And at that very moment, he was ten stories up, fighting for his life on an operating table, his strong heart bleeding, laid bare by the scalpel of a surgeon.

-


	26. Gingerbread Boy

Every foot step that came near his bed had Akihito breaking out into a cold sweat.

He listened all through the night, learning the difference between the confident strides of the doctors, the hasty pattering steps of the over-worked nurses, the shuffling steps of the patients and occasionally the clicking steps of police officers.

One came and stood at the foot of his bed, just behind the curtain, his stiff black shoes shining under the florescent lights.

Akihito’s breath were shallow, panting. He thought he smelled the scent of roses. A petal dropped on the floor. A single drop of red on the pristine while floor.

In his mind’s eye, he saw Asami again. The shock and pain on his handsome face. The blood that bloomed, expanding outward, outward…. for a moment Akihito thought the petal looked like blood, melting into the floor and pooling, streaming, running towards him…. He gasped and closed his eyes, pressing his hands to his temples. It was all in his head. It was all in his head.

But when he opened his eyes, he could still see the shining black loafers of a policemen below the curtain. He could still smell the roses. And he could still see that single blood red petal on the floor.

He had to get out of here. He didn’t know why that policeman was there, or why he had roses. But he was standing there like he was guarding Akihito’s bed. Why? Why would he do that? Was he one of Asami’s men? Akihito had over heard once that Asami practically controlled the local police force. Was this man standing over him to protect him…. or keep him in? In Akihito’s experience, it was usually both. He was probably here to make sure Akihito stayed in his hospital bed. Made sure he stayed put, so Asami’s men could come and get him. His men might be on their way right now. Walking down the hospital halls at this very moment and when they found him….

Akihito froze in fright, pulling the bed covers up around his thin hospital gown, listening.

All he could hear was the hustle and bustle of an emergency room, still busy, even in the thin hours of the early morning.

To his left side there was a whitewashed concrete block wall. But on the right was another curtain, and what Akihito could only assume was perhaps another patient bed. He could hear faint snoring from behind the curtain. Akihito gingerly moved to slip from the tall hospital bed, dangling his legs over the side, wincing at the loud creak as he did so. He froze, watching the policeman’s feet below the curtain, they shifted…. but he didn’t move from his position. When he looked down, he was surprised to see the puffy white bandages over his feet. He didn’t remember hurting them, beyond the scratches from pulling his shoes off. It must have been from walking barefoot on the pavement. Akihito frowned. Why couldn’t he remember that? From the moment he left Sion to waking up with the nurse leaning over him, it was all a giant blank spot. But there was no time to worry about that, at any moment, they might come for him. He had to escape.

The boy slipped carefully from the bed, making sure the unavoidable creaking sounded more like someone shifting in the bed rather than getting out of it, and then winced as his weight fell onto his right heel. Both feet were sore, but that one was worse. He immediately took the weight off of it, limping as he peered around the far side of the curtain. There was an old man in the bed, snoring loudly. Folded in the chair next to him was a jacket, shirt, pants and shoes.

Akihito carefully lifted the clothing onto his side of the curtain, snaking his hand underneath to reach the shoes. Everything was too big, much too big and he had no undergarments. In the end, he couldn’t buckle it, so he just tied the thin leather belt in a knot to hold the pants up around his tiny waist. He rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and coat, but they practically hung off of the boy’s small frame. He was at least grateful for the large shoes, under normal circumstances they would have been almost too big to be of use, but with his feet bandaged the way they were, the extra room was a blessing. He tied the laces tight over the white bandages. Akihito moved as quietly as he could into the next curtained area, limping and skirting his way around the old man’s bed without waking him. The next room was empty, the curtain at the front was gapped open but not a lot.

The boy went across to the other side and listened carefully. He could hear voices from the other side. The patient in that room was awake and there was a nurse in there too. He was trapped. The only option he had was to go out into the ward and try and make it to the front door without being stopped. Which he might be able to do. In these clothes, he could just walk out of the room acting like a patient or a visitor and no one would have cause to stop him. There was just one problem. His long golden hair. It would stick out like a sore thumb, drawing attention to him. If any of Asami’s men were out there, they would notice him immediately. And he couldn’t run, not with his feet like this.

The boy twisted his hair into a long ponytail and slipped the mass of curls under the back of his jacket, then he looked around the room to find something to cover the top of his head. Other than blankets and sheets, there was nothing. And putting those over his head was bound to attract more attention that his hair color ever would. The boy felt inside the pockets of the jacket, hoping beyond hope that there might be a scarf or something… He found a hat and a wallet. The hat he immediately pulled on. It covered his hair entirely except for maybe an inch or two between the collar of the coat and the hat. But no one would notice that. The wallet was stuffed full of notes. It pricked at Akihito’s conscience, but he took a few thousand yen notes and then slipped the wallet back onto the old man’s side of the curtain. His situation might have necessitated taking the man’s clothes, but taking his wallet and ID was not necessary. He was desperate, but he wasn’t a thief. He only hoped he hadn’t taken too much. Akihito had never handled money before. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what it was for and how to use it…. he just wasn’t sure how much it was worth or how far it would get him. He had nothing to compare to. A thousand yen seemed like a lot of money though and he hoped he wasn’t going to hurt the old man by taking a few of the bills. He shrugged his shoulders back and made sure his bright blond hair was completely covered by the dark skull cap. All he had to do was walk, slow and steady, to the front of the emergency room and then right out. No one would recognize him in these clothes.

Akihito took a deep breath and walked out into the ER, he kept his back towards the policeman. No one paid him any mind. Not one person. He limped slowly across the ward, out into the waiting room and right past the reception desk. And that was when he heard a familiar voice.

“We are looking for this girl. Have you seen her? She’s eighteen years old, about this tall. We have reason to believe she may have sought medical treatment here last night.”

A darkhaired man in the glasses was speaking with the young nurse from last night. It was Kirishima, flanked by five of Asami’s men, their dark eyes studying the people in the emergency room. Akihito gasped bot forced himself to keep walking towards the doors, turning his head slightly away from them.

The young nurse looked at the photograph and slowly nodded, “Yes. Yes. She is here. She was brought in last night by the EMT’s around eleven…. But...”

The young nurse lowered her voice, “But she isn’t a girl. That’s a boy….”

Kirishima breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. Akihito really was here. All night, he hadn’t been quite sure what he was more afraid of; Asami dying on the operating table or Asami waking up without them having located his Princess yet. Kirishima knew better than to think that a bullet to the chest would do much to slow his boss down. He would be enraged if he woke up from surgery and Akihito was still missing. Heads would roll.

Kirishima had stayed outside the operating room the entire time, as close to his boss’s side as he was able, and he had entrusted the search for Akihito into Suoh’s more than capable hands. Only when it was clear Asami would live, did he allow his attention to be shifted. Asami was currently sedated and sleeping in a private room, under the watch of armed guards. The surgery had been long and intensive. The bullet had been fired at such close range that it had passed completely through Asami’s body. The majority of the damage was simply from the path it had taken, diagonally puncturing a lung and then grazing his heart, tearing the wall of the right atria, severing several important blood vessels causing massive internal hemorrhaging, and then exiting out his shoulderblade, shattering the thin bone of his scapula. He was still in surgery and it was unknown what his condition would be but Kirishima knew him well enough to know that no injury would slow his rampage down if they did not locate Akihito before he woke up. It was unthinkable. They had to find the boy. Now.

He felt so relieved his hands trembled for a moment. The nurse was looking up at him suspiciously, “What is it you want with him?”

“He is a runaway. His family sent me to collect him.”

Comprehension dawned in the nurse’s eyes, “Oh… Oh, I see. Well that makes sense, I didn’t think he was… that type.”

“What type?”

The nurse’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment, “Well his injuries and his clothes…. We see a lot of hostesses, girls from the entertainment district….”

Kirishima’s eyes narrowed, “What injuries?”

“Last night… when he came in. It was obvious he was a victim of a sexual assault. The doctor performed a rape kit...”

The secretary’s sharp eyes looked over to Suoh who nodded in comprehension. That evidence needed to be confiscated and gotten rid of. Not that there was any chance of Asami being prosecuted, the man owned every judge in Tokyo, but still, it wasn’t something they wanted to get into the wrong hands.

“Where is the boy now?”

She motioned for Kirishima to follow her, “He’s sleeping, I put him in the last bed on the end. He hasn’t moved all night. The policemen who found him and called the EMT’s has been keeping watch over him.” The nurse looked up at Kirishima and lowered her voice, “He brought roses, I think he’s smitten…. I just didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was actually a he.”

Kirishima nodded, but his brows were drawn in irritation. The boy’s extraordinary beauty was a curse. Every single time Asami brought him out in public, to sing in Sion, the security team had issues with men stumbling over themselves, falling in madly love with what they thought was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. Most of the fools shoved off after a good beating, but some had been incredibly persistent, and many of those were sleeping with the fishes in Tokyo Bay.

Kirishima sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to add a rookie cop to the pile. But he would if he had to.

The young officer looked like he was barely wet behind the ears, he was clutching a single long stem rose, obviously intending to give it to Akihito, though half the petals had fallen to the floor already. He was standing protectively in front of the curtain surrounding the hospital bed.

The nurse lowered her voice, “Is she still asleep?”

The officer nodded his head and stood aside to allow her to pull back the curtain, twisting the rose in his fingers nervously as he peered in too.

Inside was the bed… and inside the bed… was nothing. The covers were tossed aside. Kirishima immediately flew to the bedside and felt the sheets, placing his hand in the small depression where the boy had laid.

It was cold.

The guards would immediately begin searching the hospital, but Kirishima already knew;Akihito was long gone. He took a deep breath to steady himself for the trial ahead.

 

-


	27. The Rabbit Hole

The boy didn’t stop moving until he was far, far from the hospital. The drab, baggy clothes fairly hung from his thin frame, but they allowed him to disappear into the crowd quickly and easily. No one paid him a bit of attention. It was an incredibly strange feeling. He was surrounded by people and yet still felt as alone as he had been in the penthouse.

He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He couldn’t very well go to the police. They would call Asami. And what would he even say? Hell, Akihito wasn’t even sure of his own name. Was it Asami Akihito? Or Takaba Akihito? Did he even have an official record? Did he even exist at all on paper? There was no doubt in Akihito’s mind that Asami could have erased every shred of evidence Akihito had ever existed, if he wanted to.

There was only one person the boy could think of that might know the answer to the myriad of questions floating in his mind. The man who had started all of this in the first place. The Inspector…. what was his name? He couldn’t quite remember what the back of the card had said. Akihito remembered the message perfectly. But the back of the note… it had had a name, a phone number and an address…. Shit. He couldn't remember. Akihito closed his eyes and stood perfectly still, using a memory recall trick he had learned from one of his tutors.

He imagined the moment he had read the card. He imagined sitting in his closet and unrolling it from the garter, imagining the way it felt in his hands, the way the paper felt under his fingertips and the shaky handwriting of the message.

_Asami thought he killed all of the Takabas…. But he missed one..._

He imagined flipping the card over. It was a business card. The front was printed in small font. There was an emblem in the upper right hand corner…. His shoulders slumped in disappointment. He could see the card in his mind’s eye, but he couldn’t remember the words or the numbers.

What was it?

All of a sudden Akihito felt something whack the back of his knees. He turned around in surprise to see a broom wielding old woman. She shook it threateningly at him, “Move along!! No Loitering!”

He bowed in surprise, still shocked from being struck. The boy limped into a small alleyway, out of the flow of the crowds and tried once more, carefully imagining every moment in the closet. Remembering how he read the back and then flipped the business card over and read the front.

_Inspector Onoda, 555-212-2387, Shinjuku Precinct 7._

His eyes flew open and he repeated the number out loud to himself “555-212-2387”, terrified of losing it again.

Now all he had to do was find a phone….

-

The Inspector rolled over with a groan. He couldn’t get comfortable. No matter how he tried, there was no escape from the constant hot throb in his hands and the ache of his broken ribs. The burns sent heat, scorching and sears into his brain whether he moved or not. It was excruciating. Made worse so by the splints that held his fingers and thumb outstretched. He had skin grafts done, and the splints held his hands open to prevent contracture of the skin and joints as he healed. He had just a little bit of mobility in his left thumb. He couldn’t hardly wipe his own ass and even the slightest movement sent radiating pain up his forearms and through his chest. Every breath hurt.

He shifted on the bed again, rolling over to get his mouth near the edge of the nightstand. He had spilled a bottle of Percocets there the night before. The Inspector scraped two into his mouth with his bandaged hand. He had just taken two thirty minutes ago. The bottle that was supposed to last him for the week was nearly gone after only a day and a half. And it was barely taking the edge off.

The Inspector buried his head in the pillow, waiting for the pleasant buzzing to start. The pain hardly faded, but he found that soon he just wouldn’t care so much about it….

Suddenly his cellphone began to ring. Blaring in his ear.

The first time he ignored it. But then it rang again. And again. And again.

Finally he swung his feet over the side of the bed and leaned over, pressing the answer phone button with his splinted pinkie finger, “What?!!!” He bellowed from the pain and the rage and sheer annoyance of it all....

“H-hello? Inspector Onoda?”

That voice. He knew immediately who it was. The voice, sweet like cotton candy and thick like caramel, was the one that haunted his dreams. Etched into his memories, the beauty alongside the ugliness of that night. It was one he would never forget, no matter how hard he might try. Asami had certainly made sure of that. He had taken away the feeling of her delicate flesh under his palms, forever.

Well, now it seemed he had the opportunity to take something of Asami’s too

His lips curled into a broad smile, spreading across his face as she continued to speak, “I got your message. I need to talk to you about it. Please. Can we meet somewhere?”

He coughed nervously to clear his throat, “1-19-1 Yasakuni Street. Marui Apartments, Building 9, Apartment 51. Second floor in the back.”

“Uh. Ok. I- I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

After a resounding click, the called was ended and the Inspector immediately regretted not giving her directions or asking if she needed a cab. But no matter, it would give him more time to get himself together.

The Inspector hesitated before dialing out and the moment it began to ring, he almost hung up. It startled him how quickly the call was answered. It was as if they were expecting his call, “Inspector, have you news?”

“I -uh, yes. She made contact. Well, not only contact. She coming to see me. Right now.”

There was a long moment of silence, before heavy breathing started in the other end. The exctiement in the voice was unmistakeable, “Bring her to me and I will pay you ten times what I paid you for delivering the message.”

At that the Inspector felt his own breath taken away. The call ended almost immediately and the Inspector found himself listening to the silence for a few minutes before he even realized he had been hung up on.

He had already been paid more than enough to compensate for his burned hands. More than he could have made in ten years as a police inspector. And because of his injuries he was also being retired with a pension. But the money he could get for turning over the girl… he could retire to the tropics and drink sake all day long. He could fuck a new whore every day and they wouldn’t give a shit about his mutilated hands for the kind of money he could pay them.

As much as the Inspector wanted to keep the Princess for himself, he was no fool. It didn’t matter how long or how far that girl ran or how well she was hidden, Asami would find her, he would find her and kill all those responsible for keeping her from him. The Inspector would just as soon get the money and disappear. He wanted to be long gone by the time Asami found out what had happened to his precious Princess.

It really was a shame about the girl though.

-

Akihito soon learned that a thousand yen, didn’t get one very far at all. He barely had enough cab fare to get himself to the apartment building. The boy was left with a few coins to his name. There was a part of him that wished he had walked and saved his money, but then he could already feel his right heel bleeding a bit, the bandages wet and warm underneath his foot. It was probably for the best that he had taken the taxi, although he was dying of hunger. Other than a few bites of his dinner…. the last thing he had eaten was the milk and cookies from his snack, back at the penthouse.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Perhaps the Inspector would have something for him to eat. The stress and the exertion of the past twelve hours was beginning to catch up with the already fragile boy, his limited reserves had been used up and he was starting to feel dizzy and lightheaded. He had to stop several times in his journey up the rickety stars of the apartment building.

The place was ratty, cobbled together as if the contractor had no blue prints and possibly wouldn’t have cared even if they did have them. Although Japan now had some of the strongest building codes in the world, that didn’t really start until the 1980s, after a number of earthquakes precipitated interest in tightening watch on the way buildings were made. There were still many, many apartments and tenements that predated the new codes. They were cobbled together any which way. There were stray dogs wandering about and he could hear a baby crying in the distance. Akihito wandered for a bit looking for the right apartment and when he found it, he knocked on the door. The paint was peeling. For a moment, he thought perhaps he had the wrong one but then there was a rustling at the dingy window and the door came flying open. It was dark in the apartment behind him and Akihito could smell the dust and mold inside.

There was no doubt in Akihito’s mind that it was the same man from last night. He remembered his face clearly; his coal black eyes, shaggy black hair and wide square face. And his canines, they were sharper than the usual. Akihito remembered the way they had been clenched and bared while the man had wildly groped at his flesh. He shuddered and took a hasty step back. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come…

That was when Akihito noticed that he had nothing to fear. The Inspector was in pretty rough shape. His hands were bandaged from the tips of his fingers to his forearms, underneath his open shirt Akihito could see more bandages wrapping his ribs. He had bandages around his forehead and surgical tape holding together deeps cuts on his cheek. His body looked like one giant bruise and Akihito could see the pain in his face; wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes and his nostrils flaring with even the slightest movement. He was limping even worse than Akihito.

He stared at Akihito for a long moment, taking in the boy’s strange disguise and then rasped in a deep voice, “Come, you must follow me. Its not safe to talk here.”

Akihito believed him. He believed him because there was no way a man in his condition would be out of bed, unless he had a very, very good reason to be. It was a slow and silent trip down the stairs and out to the busy street where the Inspector had Akihito hail a cab. When the yellow car pulled over and opened it door, Akihito looked at him in embarrassment, “I don’t have any money.”

Those coal black eyes glanced over at him, “Get my wallet out of my back pocket.”

Akihito obeyed, automatically flipping it open and glancing between the ID, the policeman’s badge and the man’s face. They all matched. The man really was a cop. And judging from the fact he was working against Asami, he was most likely a good cop. Akihito felt a sigh of relief wash over him and followed him willingly into the cab. After he gave the driver the address, Akihito opened his mouth to speak but the Inspector put his finger to his lips, looking meaningfully at the back of the cabbie driver’s head.

The ride was awkward and silent. Akihito stared out the window. The miles sped by in silence, Akihito aware of his eyes on him from time to time, but he kept his own gaze carefully averted, looking out the window, searching for signs of something familiar. The lack of conversation made him uneasy and his anxiousness grew as time droned on, but suddenly he realized that he knew where he was. He knew the stores on this street and the park. He had gazed down at them a hundred times from the penthouse window. Akihito gasped as he looked up, suddenly realizing that they were passing right by the Sion skyscraper. He scrunched low in his seat instinctively and the Inspector eyed him. When they passed by it, he sighed in relief.

The building they stopped at was just as grand and just as impressive as the one Akihito had left. Men in black suits opened the doors for them and Akihito suddenly found himself flanked by guards yet again. The deja vu was overwhelming. He gasped and stood stock still as they were herded towards an elevator.

The Inspector stopped when he did. He look at him intently, “I’m taking you to the one person who can give you the answers you seek. Can you really bear to walk away now?”

Akihito took a deep breath. He wanted answers. Desperately. He wanted to know why Asami had lied to him. His whole life was a lie. Why he had betrayed him? Why had he killed his family? And why had Asami spared him? Not only spared him, but taken him into his home and loved him…. loved him and trapped him. Why? Akihito knew he couldn’t walk away without answers. He had come too far.

And he couldn’t go back. Not after what he had done.

Akihito’s hands began to shake. The reality of it had yet to truly sink in. He simply hadn’t had time to stop and process the magnitude of what had happened. What he had done.

He had shot Asami.

His Daddy, his best friend, his lover. He had taken his gun and shot him. In the chest. Akihito didn’t even know if he was alive or dead. Being here, so close to home and so far, he realized, he was unable to go home. He might never see Asami again. As hurt and angry as he had been, the boy simply couldn't imagine a world without Asami in it.

On numb, trembling legs Akihito allowed the Inspector to lead him into a gleaming elevator just like the one at home. His blue eyes stared into his reflection in the silver walls and his head spun as the reality began to sink in. He might never get on that elevator again. He might never go back to the penthouse, his childhood home. He might never see Asami again. His Daddy

The realization felt like a ball of cold fire in his stomach and he suddenly felt as if he might vomit.

Akihito was so distracted, he hardly noticed that instead of going up…. the elevator was actually taking him down…

The moment the doors opened Akihito had a strange feeling like Alice must have felt when she tumbled down the Rabbit Hole, like he was in a place that, by all rational standards, shouldn’t have existed beneath the streets of Tokyo. Rather than the open, clean, modern spaces he was used to, stepping out of the elevator was like stepping into another world. It was a large dark drawing room, filled with old, dusty antiques. The floor was old polished wood covered by a thick Persian rug. The furniture was strange, carved with heads of both cherubs and gargoyles. The couch was covered in brocade. The paintings and tapestries that covered the walls would have been more at home in a medieval castle than downtown Tokyo. It was dark, very dark, lit only be a few dim lights. A butler oozed from the shadows and Akihito nearly jumped out of his skin at the side of him. He was enormous. As tall as Asami and just as broad shouldered with a wide square jaw.

Akihito couldn’t help but stare.

The guards disappeared back into the elevator and it made Akihito nervous as he realized the lift required a code to be entered before it would operate.

The butler said nothing but he indicated that they were to follow him into a dark hallway with no windows. Stag antlers were mounted, along with deer heads, owls and birds. Their blank faces looked at down him with glassy, empty eyes. It felt like they were watching him. Hundreds of eyes staring at him accusingly, as if he were the one who had gunned them down. As if he were a killer...

The hall was so dark, he couldn’t even see the end of it. The passageway just disappeared into darkness. He could barely see the butler walking in front of them. It felt like he was being led into a trap. For all he knew this was all a trap. And the Inspector may not even be one of the good guys...

Akihito stopped in his tracks, his voice rang loud in the darkened hallway, “No. I’m done. I’m not taking one more step until someone tells me where I am and just who the hell we are going to see.”

The boy snatched off his hat in frustration. It was warm in the hallway and his hair was sticking to the back of his neck, itching him under his coat. He pulled it free with a toss of his head and let it hang around his shoulders. The dim light made the silken mass look like pure spun gold, shimmering with every movement he made.

A gasp came from behind him, “My God. You look so much like your mother.”

Moments ago, there hadn’t been anyone behind them. It was as if the voice had come out of nowhere, but the words captured his full attention, overriding his fear. Akihito whirled around in surprise, speaking before he had fully turned around, “You- you knew my mother?”

The words were perfectly enunciated, “Yes my dear boy, I knew her very well. A lovely woman, who died far too soon I’m afraid.”

Akihito was so shocked by the man’s appearance, he hardly heard the words he spoke. His eyes fell on the man’s thin lips, they moved strangely. It was as if his teeth were too big for his mouth and he was straining to close the skin over them. In fact the skin on his entire face seemed like it was stretched too tightly over his skull. The skin was thin and he could see the blueish veins in his cheeks and eyelids.The boy had never seen anyone who looked like the man he now saw. The closest thing he could think of was a ventriloquist's dummy he had once seen on TV. The man’s head was a normal size, but his body was severely stunted. It was bent and misshapen and confined to a wheelchair. The only part of him that moved were his hands. The right twitched a little where it rested on a toggle switch on the arm of the mechanized wheelchair. There were several wires running up the back of his wrist out from of his sleeves, splitting and attaching to electrodes at the base of each of his fingers. His hands and his head were the only parts of him that looked normal size. The rest was completely miniaturized, like a child’s body. As if, besides his head, the rest of him had simply stopped growing around eight years old. His head sat on his thin neck slightly tilted, like a doll. His hand moved jerkily and the wheelchair rolled forward in the dark hallway, bringing him closer to Akihito. Bringing that grotesque, giant head towards him. The rest of him was clothed in black and the hallway was dark so it almost looked as if there was a disembodied head gliding smoothly towards him. Pale blueish skin with large garish white teeth and cheeks stretched tightly over his wide jaws. His eyes were fixed on Akihito as if he were the center of his universe, they were open wide as if to take in every detail and the whites of his eyes seemed to glow in the dark. His eyes were so black, it looked as if the pupil had consumed the iris entirely.

The boy didn’t mean to be cruel, but the terrifying sight of him, combined with the frightening surroundings and the dark, made him take several skittish steps back.

The wheelchair followed him forwards and Akihito moved back again, crying out in fright, “Please, who are you? And where am I?!”

The wheels stopped rolling immediately, “I apologize for my unforgivable rudeness. An oversight, I assure you, due only to my unending joy at seeing you alive and unharmed. Allow me to introduce myself.”

He bowed his head, twisting his thin neck down in what seemed to be an attempt at bowing before bringing it back up. His eyelids were open and peeled back, his dilated pupils fixed on Akihito’s face as he spoke slowly, “My name is Takaba Takeshi, and you, baby brother, have finally come home.”

-


	28. Through the Looking Glass

Akihito swayed on his feet. He felt like he was falling into a hole…. a deep dark pit…

Strong hands caught him about the waist and he snapped back to awareness. His eyelids felt too heavy to hold up and his legs didn’t seem to want to do what he told them to do. The world spun and he found himself carried between the Inspector and the butler into a room at the end of the hall. He could hear Takeshi speaking but he wasn’t processing the words.

A cool rag was placed on his forehead and he lay there in a swoon, half in and out of consciousness. He was aware of the others speaking around him, but the words just faded into the white noise in his head.

He kept seeing Asami, their last moments together playing over and over in his head. The way he held him tight…. and then the way he pushed him down. The way they fought and the gun. The feeling of the gun kicking in his hands, bruising his palms, fighting like a wild animal with a mind of its own. He saw Asami fall and the blood….

“NO!” Akihito screamed and sat bolt upright. The other three men turned to look at him. Akihito’s eyes focused on the man in the wheelchair. His large head turned slowly as if it was very difficult to move the over-sized mass atop his thin neck.

He spoke again, his lips peeling back and forth over his large teeth, “No? You would not like to eat something?”

Akihito looked at him blankly and so he elaborated, “I was just telling Yuri that perhaps you might feel better once you get some food in your stomach.” The wheelchair brought the man closer to the chaise Akihito was lying on and Aki withdrew defensively.

“When was the last time you ate, if I might ask? You look quite peaked.”

“I- yesterday. Yesterday afternoon.”

The man clicked his teeth and the butler moved to leave the room. The Inspector protested, “Hey what about my re-”

Long teeth bared completely as the dark haired man in the wheelchair hissed, “Yes, of course. Your compensation. Yuri, give the man his due. And then prepare something, for our guest...”

The last three words were drawn out unnecessarily and Akihito wasn’t sure why. But the tall butler ushered the Inspector out of the room. Akihito watched him go with trepidation. He wanted to call out. To go after to him. To run to the elevator and go up, up and out into the open air.

But he knew it was already too late for that.

If this was a trap, he was already well and truly caught. He had been since he stepped foot onto the elevator. Trapped like a butterfly in a net. The more he struggled, the more damage he would cause.

He stared at the shrunken man with the bulbous head and his electrified hands, remembering his claim that they were related. He found that almost impossible to believe. They looked nothing alike. He was as dark as Akihito was light. Dark eyes, dark hair. Where Akihito’s features were delicate and feminine, his were broad and mannish, almost primitive. He had a square jaw, wide nose and prominent supraorbital ridge. Based on his bone structure, had he not been crippled and confined to a wheelchair, he would have likely have been a very large, very strong man. Akihito continued to stare at him and the man stared right back. He thought back on his words and his name, Takaba Takeshi. Something about it sounded familiar…. but he couldn’t remember….

The boy spoke uncertainly; half in question, half in statement, “I don’t have a brother.”

Takeshi’s face hardened, “Who told you that?”

“My fathe-” Akihito stopped midsentence. Asami wasn’t his father. He wasn’t his blood relation. He was nothing to him. Nothing but a kidnapper. And a murderer.

His lips pressed together in remembered pain before he spoke softly, “Asami. Asami told me that I was an only child.”

“Asami Ryuichi.” Takeshi spat his name like a curseword, “And I’m sure he told that your family died in some tragic accident too, didn’t he? What was it? A fire?”

Akihito nodded slowly, his blue eyes wide and his cheeks pale.

Takeshi smirked and shook his head. He looked at Akihito for a long time and the anger seemed to go out of him a bit, “Would you like to know what really happened?”

The truth was.

He didn’t.

He didn’t want to know how deep the rabbithole went. How deep the web of lies and betrayal Asami had woven around him. The pain was still too fresh. It hurt deep, deep in his chest, like an infected wound; festering, rotting and throbbing with every heartbeat. Akihito felt as if he had been the one shot in the heart, instead of the other way around.

Takeshi read him like a book, his sharp eyes narrowed, “No. No, you don’t.”

Akihito’s eyes flew wide and Takeshi moved closer, “Its ok. It can wait. It can wait until you’ve had a hot bath and a nap. And gotten out of that hideous clothing. Did you steal that from somebody’s grandfather?”

His thin lips quirked up as he looked down at Akihito’s plaid pants. Aki looked down, just realizing for the first time how truly horrendous his outfit really was. He scratched the back of his head in chagrin, “Actually uh, yea.”

Takeshi laughed and his wheelchair turned around in place and then began to glide silently out of the room, “Come with me little brother.”

The endearment threw him for a moment, but then Akihito stood and stumbled after him. He still felt a little disoriented. And the low light made everything seem that much more distorted. His hip knocked against a side table and he cried out in surprise.

Takeshi apologized without turning around, “I do apologize for the darkness. I am afraid I have a severe photosensitivity, repercussion of the medication I take to control painful muscle spasms. I sustained a spinal cord injury as a child. Incomplete, thankfully, allowing me to have some movement of the muscles in my neck and shoulders. I can move my hands and arms to a limited degree thanks to sensors implanted in those functional muscles. When I contract muscles that are not paralyzed, the electrical signal is intercepted, magnified and delivered to the electrodes in my arms and fingers. The small pulses of current allow my muscles to contract and give me some degree of autonomy. Its called functional electrical stimulation by the doctors. I, of course, call it my salvation. Before recent advances, I was completely bedridden and utterly dependent on Yuri for my every need. Now, at least, I can move on my own and go where I wish.”

He looked meaningfully at Akihito when he stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. “That is a delight I am sure you can relate to. Not everyone understands what a gift it really is.”

Akihito nodded mutely.

“And so, while the Belladonna extract controls my muscle spasms, it also dilates my pupils, making them extremely sensitive to light. One of the reasons I chose an apartment with no windows. Your eyes will adapt over time. I recommend keeping the lights in your room low, it will make the adjustment easier, but you, of course, may do as you wish.”

“My room?”

“Yes. For as long as you wish to stay, you are welcome in my home.”

The implication that he free to leave, if he wanted, sent relief immediately washing through the boy’s body. The darkness in the apartment and the dilated pupils also being explained by a medical condition also assuaged his fear. It all made sense now, and Akihito certainly wouldn’t hold his disabilities against the poor man, no matter how uncomfortable the dim light made him.

His brother.

Perhaps.

Akihito still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he bowed low and thanked him for his hospitality.

“Do not mention it. This was originally intended as a guest room, and though it has gone largely unused, you will find an assortment of kimonos and other casual clothing in the closet. There should be something to your liking. Please, take a hot bath, relax and get some sleep. When you feel you are ready, rejoin me in the dining room for a meal and conversation.”

Akihito nodded and closed the door behind him. Those dark eyes followed it shut. Akihito stood for a moment, listening behind it. All he heard was silence. Total and all encompassing. If Takeshi was still right on the other side of the door, he wouldn’t know. The wheels moved so soft on the thick carpet. There were no footsteps to hear.

He let out a sigh. He was being foolish. His overactive imagination was at work again. Akihito flipped on the light and though it hurt for a moment, the brightness was a welcome relief. The room was simple and very different than what he had expected judging from the rest of the apartment he had seen. It was lovely and simple. A pure white room. A white carpet with white bedding and a white chaise. The far wall was made entirely of a floor to ceiling mirror, creating the illusion that the room was much bigger than it actually was. It created a sense of openness and somewhat made up for the lack of a window, although it also was rather eerie. When Akihito moved about the room, occasionally he would glimpse the movement in the mirror. It made him feel as though he was being watched. His skin crawled with the sensation but Akihito refused to give in to it.

Slender fingers flipped through the clothing in the armoire. Most were plain things, robes and loungewear, but there were a few kimonos. Akihito had only worn kimonos a few times. Asami didn’t care for the way they hid his slender body beneath the folds of fabric, obscuring his form. He didn’t let Akihito wear them except on special Japanese holidays. There was one in the armoire that made the boy’s eyes light up. It was lovely, a peachy pink silk, and he could see handpainted cherry blossoms cascading to the hem.

Akihito bit his lip. It was so, so pretty. Obviously meant for a woman to wear.

The other plain blue and black kimonos were for men. He should want one of those. But what he really wanted was that pretty pink one. He felt guilty but Akihito hadn’t gotten to pick his own clothing in ages. That was what he wanted to wear and he was going to.

But as he reached for it, he noticed how dirty his fingers were and pulled back. A bath. He was filthy.

The bath was open to the room, not contained by walls, as was the sink and vanity table. Everything was in full view of the rest of the room. It was in the corner and was just as large and deep as the one back home.

Home. Akihito frowned. The penthouse wasn’t his home anymore. This was. Maybe. At least until he got on his feet and found another.

Akihito trailed his hands over the slick marble countertop and looked down at the little bottles of soaps. He liked them, they were cute. He picked up a few and then noticed some lipstick sitting on the counter too.

Asami never let him wear lipstick.

And it wasn’t just any color. It was red. Blood red. Akihito had seen women wear it in club Sion, from a distance, of course, because Akihito wasn’t allowed to interact with any of the guests. But he had been entranced by the way it changed their faces and and drew attention to their lips. It was intensely sexual. Asami said it looked like facepaint. But Akihito had always rather liked it. He thought it was dramatic. He had always wanted to see what it might look like on him. Feeling only slightly guilty for using someone else’s lipstick, Akihito applied it to his plush lower lip, smudging it and then carefully tracing the perfect cupid’s bow on top.

It transformed him. He went from a pale-faced, lost little boy…. to a seductress. A vixen. Akihito plumped his lips in the mirror. Fluttering his lashes. Even in these clothes, he looked hot.

The bright red contrasted with his white skin and suddenly Akihito was reminded of the last time he had seen red on white.

Akihito wiped it off, rubbing harshly at it until all of the lipstick was gone and his lips were rather raw.

He ran the water and picked out bath salts from the array on the edge. He stripped before the mirror, peeling off the baggy clothes like a skin that didn’t fit. He stared at his body in the mirror. It was beautiful….. except…. Akihito pulled his eyes from his genitals. They looked strange without the golden cage covering them. Naked and fleshy. The loose skin between his legs seemed ugly and unattractive now. Odd and almost foreign. Like they didn’t belong…

He stared at them for a moment in confused silence and then turned to lower himself into the tub. Water was too hot and it burned his fair skin slightly but the boy was numb to the dull pain. The water stung his bandaged feet horribly, drawing his attention down to them. He slowly peeled off the bandages and stared at the bottoms of his feet. The left was just a little scraped and raw but the right… there was a long gauge across the bottom of his heel. It had sliced right through the old circular scar Asami said he got from stepping on a nail as a child. It was ugly and there were black stitches holding most of it closed. A few on in the middle had popped and the white skin had split apart laying the insides of his flesh open. It was red and shiny.

He wanted it touch it.

Akihito dug his nail into the open wound, sighing at the pain that zipped up his spine. For a moment he felt better. He felt in control. If only for a moment….. as soon as the pain stopped, he felt out of control again. Spinning, spinning, spinning….

He pressed his nail into the wound again and watched as the blood began to pour out, the red was following him. Asami’s blood, whirling in the water, reaching for him, coming for him…..

Akihito got out of the tub. He stood there on the pristine white tile, shivering, bleeding. Slowly, with his back to the wall, he sat on the floor, hugging his knees. He was numb to the pain in his foot.

He wanted to go home now. He wanted to feel Asami’s arms around him, keeping him safe, chasing away all his demons.

Except Asami would never be there to hold him again.

Heavy teardrops clung to the boy’s lashes and fell onto his cheeks. How he had wanted to be free…. and now, now it felt so hollow. So lonely.

After a while, Akihito got up off the floor and dried himself, he held pressure to the bottom of his heel until it stopped bleeding and then limped to the bed. Too tired to locate clothing, Akihito laid down on the bed and let the pillowy softness envelop him. It was almost too soft. The boy twisted and turned in the bed and then sat up when he noticed movement from across the room.

It was only his reflection, caught out of the corner of his eye.

The boy in the mirror stared back at him. It truly felt like someone was watching him. Like there were eyes behind the reflection, staring at him.

It was only himself. Only his reflection. The mirrors gleamed from all around him and Akihito laid back down with a shudder, pulling the covers over his head to hide from them. He focused on the pain in his foot and the buzzing in his head, slowly allowing them to overpower his fear as he slipped into an uneasy, restless sleep.

 

-


	29. Tea Party

He awoke sometime later, the room was dark. Akihito couldn’t remember if he had turned the lights off or not. He wondered what time it was. There was no clock by the bedside, and reaching over to turn the table lamp on, Akihito realized there were no clocks in the room at all. Without windows, there was no way of telling what time it was. It could be the middle of the night for all he knew. The thought was very disorienting.

The boy limped to the closet and dressed in the pale pink kimono, hardly noticing its beauty this time. He tied it tightly with a sash and then used another sash to bind his hair, letting the ribbon dangle down his back. He was so hungry. Akihito could smell a delicious smelling coming from the hall, like the scent of meat roasting and it made saliva pool in his mouth. He followed his nose down the hall and into the last room on the right. His passage was slow and careful, partly because of his limp and partly because the darkness made his footing unsteady. He felt his way as much as he saw. It felt so very dark after the brightness of the white room.

There was more light in the dining room, glowing candles were set across the top of a gleaming dark wood dining table. It was long and at the head, sat Takeshi, like a strange shrunken king. The tall butler was just finishing placing several platter on the table. Some were so hot they were steaming. The smell was intoxicating. Akihito swallowed hard.

Takeshi noticed him standing in the doorway and one of his fingers crooked slowly, “Come closer, we won’t bite. Dinner is almost ready. I trust you slept well?”

Akihito nodded and moved closer to the warm light of the candles, grateful to be able to see better. He slipped into his seat, sighing with relief once the pressure was taken off his foot. It hurt to limp on his arched foot and it also hurt to stand. Takeshi noticed his limp, “What’s wrong with your foot Aki-kun?”

The familiar used of his name coming from a total stranger was odd and made him feel uncomfortable. It felt a little like it crossed some sort of line, but Akihito wasn’t confident enough to protest. He also wasn’t sure it was inappropriate. He was younger than Takeshi, and his guest, afterall. And he didn’t have much experience with people other than Asami. It might be perfectly normal.

“I cut it last night.”

“Do you need treatment? May I see it?”

Akihito shyly tucked his bare feet beneath the hem of his kimono and shook his head, “No, its fine, they took care of it at the hospital. Still just a bit tender.”

Takeshi looked as though he wanted to protest, but he seemed to swallow it and change subjects, “You look quite lovely in that kimono. The color suits your fair skin well.”

Akihito blushed and thanked him politely, twisting his fingers in his lap uncomfortably.

The silent butler moved smoothly around the table, serving first Akihito and then Takeshi.

Something white and long that rather reminded Akihito of a finger bone was placed next to something Akihito did not recognize. It was pale and round, with many small holes in it. Next to that he placed two small round balls of meat that looked rather like sausages and then drizzled a creamy, reddish looking sauce over the top. It was all rather artfully arranged on the small dinner plate and then topped with sliced figs, cut open to reveal their pink insides.

Takeshi explained the mystery meal to Akihito, “Sweet figs, picked at the peak of their freshness. White asparagus, very much the same as the green excepting that it is grown in total darkness. Without the stimulation of sunlight, white asparagus is more brittle than green, and spoils easily, but it is prized because it is far sweeter.”

He then pointed, by uncurling his long finger, to the strange, white, skull like thing beside it. “That is the root of a lotus flower, which has long been considered a powerful symbol of purity, sexual innocence, and divine beauty. The root is not only delicious, but improve digestion, boosts the immune system, and improves mental clarity. Lastly, we have an organ meat that is a prized delicacy in many cultures to increase male potency and act as an aphrodisiac”

Akihito looked at him in surprise, “An aphrodisiac?”

Takeshi chuckled, “Just a rumor of course, it has no mystical properties different than any other meat. Have a bite, the blood sauce imparts a delightful umami flavor that contrasts deliciously with the inherent saltiness of the meat.”

He shuddered a bit inside at the mention of blood sauce. But it was very rude not to eat the meal that had been provided by one’s host and Akihito was not rude. He started with the asparagus, pleasantly surprised to discover that it was sweeter than regular asparagus, which he had never been a big fan of. It was quite good, once he got over the strange sensation of biting into a boiled finger. The Lotus root as well was quite delicious and Akihito found himself dipping the potatoe-y vegetable into the savory red sauce.

He ate very slowly, politely matching his pace to his hosts. Eating was obviously rather difficult for Takeshi. He had to force his fingers closed around the fork and aim it into the food. Once it was secure, he would then laboriously lift it to his mouth. He could see the muscles in his shoulders bunching and shifting as he stimulated the implants that generated the electric shocks that were transferred to his arms and fingers. The kind of electric shock it would require to stimulate some of those large muscles to contract would have had to be quite painful. Akihito wondered how much of it he could feel. Takeshi had said his spinal cord injury was incomplete, so it was possible that while the motor portions were damaged, the sensory was not. Which meant despite being almost completely paralyzed, he might still be able to feel everything. He watched him closely, and every now and then Takeshi’s face twinged with what looked like pain. The thought made Akihito’s tender heart fill with compassion and admiration, that despite the pain, he was still determined to be self sufficient. It made Akihito feel horribly guilty for judging him based on his somewhat grotesque looks. Takeshi could no more help being ugly and disfigured than Akihito could help being beautiful. It some ways, they were both cursed.

The dinner was eaten in a companionable silence, Takeshi’s focus was on eating and Akihito occasionally complimented the food. When he got to the meat though, Takeshi placed his fork down on the table and watched him. Akihito cut a small piece off the side. It was a soft meat, rather squishy, like a sausage. And there was some kind of strangely familiar, musky, salty taste to it that he couldn't quite place.

Akihito decided he quite liked it. The round piece of meat was small and bite sized and Akihito decided not to cut it up but rather just to eat it whole. He placed it in his mouth, rolling it with his tongue until it was between his teeth and then he bit down into it, at first it felt very soft and almost squishy. The texture was very similar to a scallop, but with a rich, fatty taste associated with the organ meats. As he chewed, something inside it seemed to pop, almost like a grape, and fluid burst out, filling his mouth with a warm liquid. It was bitter and acrid and took him completely by surprise. Akihito gagged and spit the meat out into his napkin. The fluid was not so easy to get rid of. It was thick and sticky and coated the inside of his mouth and tongue. He rinsed with water first and then sipped the wine that he had previously not touched. The pungent alcohol helped, but did not completely alleviate the bitterness in his mouth.

“Gah!” He said in relief as the alcohol washed it down and then flushed with embarrassment, realizing how rude he had been.

Takashi smiled apologetically at him, “Not to your liking?”

“No. I’m sorry, I- what was that?”

“Lamb testicle. Also known as Kapura Bakra or ‘Lamb fries’ ”

Akihito stared at him in horror as he realized what he had just almost eaten.

Takeshi explained calmly, “Cooking with the testicles of young animals is an international tradition.They are fatty and gooey, so they take on other flavors well. Also since they are glands, not muscle, so they are far more tender than even the most slowly poached chicken. Lamb testicles are considered to be quite the delicacy….. Perhaps, you will acquire the taste.”

Akihito looked down at his plate and murmured, “Perhaps.” He had quite lost his appetite, but the musky taste lingered and he decided to eat the sweet figs. The fresh taste washed away the aftertaste and his brief anger. It felt like Takeshi had fooled him, but he couldn't be sure. There was no reason to get upset about it. It probably wasn’t on purpose. And afterall, there were quite a few people willing to pay top dollar to eat fugu, the poisonous testicles of blowfish. In comparison to that, lamb wasn’t so strange.

There were stranger things.

He sipped his wine and waited for Takeshi to finish the rest of his meal. It was good wine, very sweet and pungent. It made him feel a bit drowsy and although he was not aware of it, it lowered his inhibitions quite a bite.

Before he quite realized what he was saying, he blurted it out, “Takeshi, what happened to you?”

Takeshi continued to chew, an expression of pleasure across his face as he savored his last bite of flesh. He took one last bite of fig and then slowly placed his utensils on the table. Immediately, Yuri appeared at his elbow and began to clear the dirty dishes away.

When the butler cleared his own dishes, Akihito bowed his head, “Thank you.”

There was no response. Akihito realized that he had never heard him speak.

He wondered about that and it must have been written on his face because Takeshi explained, “Please forgive Yuri, he does not mean to be rude. He cannot speak. I’m afraid both his tongue and vocal cords were damaged in an accident” Akihito stared at him in horror and the butler opened his mouth to show a gaping void where his tongue should have been.

“As you can see, I’m afraid Yuri is completely mute.” Takeshi frowned at his butler in reprimand, “Yuri, close your mouth, its garish”

Akihito waited to ask until he left the dining room.

“What happened to him?”

Takeshi’s wheelchair rolled back from the table and then turned to move through an arched doorway into another room. Akihito followed closely in the dim light. There was an armchair with a thin leatherbound photo album in it.

“In that album are the answers you seek. It is the painstaking results of years of investigation. Almost all records and photographs of our family were destroyed in the fire.”

Akihito looked at him in surprise as he lifted the book into his lap.

Takeshi nodded in confirmation, “Oh yes, there was a fire. But that wasn’t what killed them.”

Akihito looked at him and he nodded towards the book. Akihito opened to the first page. On one side was a passport and the other was a playbill. Akihito gasped when he realized whose picture was on both.

“Mother.”

He stared for a long moment. The passport was of her plain faced with only a hint of a smile and she looked very young. The playbill was entirely different, her lips were painted red and her golden curls were tossed over her shoulder as she looked at the camera seductively. Akihito did not recognize either name, not the one on the passport or the stage name on the club flier. Another thing Asami had lied to him about. His own mother’s name.

He flipped to the next page, it was a marriage certificate and a photo. Black and white and grainy but it was clearly his mother on her wedding day. She looked happy and so, so beautiful in her white wedding dress and veil. Beside her stood a man Akihito had never seen before. He was tall and stocky with broad features, thick lips and a wide nose. There was a prominence above his eyes and nose that was quite distinctive. Now Akihito knew where Takashi had gotten it from. Though Takashi’s features were somewhat stretched and distorted, it was obvious that the man in the picture was his father. Akihito studied the man’s face for a while before his eyes wandered to the other figures in the picture. Standing the man’s left and slightly behind, there was not one darkhaired boy, but two.

“Two…” His eyes rose to Takeshi’s. The blackness gleamed at him.

“Yes Akihito. Two brothers. Well, half brothers. Sons of your father, but not of your mother.”

His mind was reeling. Trying to make sense of it. It was real now. Tangible. The evidence in his hands. He had a brother. Not one. But two. Akihito’s trembling finger pointed to the taller boy.

“His name was Takeo. He was the oldest.”

“Is he-”

Takeshi shook his head, cutting the question off, “No. He died the night your parents did.”

“Oh.” His response sounded silly in his ears. It sounded trite and shallow. But he didn’t know what else to say....

Akihito slowly turned the page. There were a few more pictures. Of the boys and the man and the woman. There was one of her, enormously pregnant. They were all taken from a distance and he couldn’t see her face. But her head was down as if she was tired…. or scared.

The next page was filled with a photocopy of a birth certificate. Takaba Akihito. Born May 5th, 1997. At least, part of his name was familiar to him. And his birthday. At least, Asami hadn’t lied to him about everything. Just almost… everything. He had mixed a pinch of truth with his many lies. Like sugar, to help the medicine go down….

Akihito angrily flipped to the next page. It was blank, as was the next, and the next and the next. That was it? That was all? It hardly answered his questions. Only brought to mind more.

He looked at Takeshi with a mix of exasperation and frustration.

Takeshi apologized, “That was all I could find. I wanted a family album. Filled with us, our lives together. But unfortunately, it was all destroyed. There are more pictures, but I didn’t want them mixed with these.” He pointed to another photo album. It was red and much, much thicker.

Akihito traded, placing the thin black one down, picking up the thick red one.

“Make sure you are ready.”

Blue eyes met coal black. Both sets of pupils were dilated and wide.

He whispered softly, “I need to know.” Takeshi nodded and Akihito opened the book.

There was page after page of news articles. Clippings with headlines that screamed, “Butchers butchered! Takaba Yakuza Decimated!”

The articles outlined the story, how the entire family was killed, their bodies burned. All the gang members on site were also slaughtered and the entire compound had been torched to the ground. No evidence was ever found and no accusations were ever made. It seemed to Akihito, that no one cared very much that the Takabas had been slaughtered. A ‘rival gang’ was as far as any of the articles hypothesized. His mind whirled with the realization that he came from a clan of yakuzas. A ruthless gang whose deaths had been practically celebrated by the rest of the world.

After that, the rest of the album was dedicated to Asami. And apparently Asami also came from a long standing yakuza bloodline. Rivals of the Takabas. Mortal enemies in fact. Akihito realized with shock that Asami’s father had been assassinated the same day as the raid on the Takaba’s. He knew it wasn’t a coincidence, but he didn’t understand the connection. On the page beside the article was a press release from Asami himself, vowing not retribution, but change. He vowed to do away with the illegal activities of his father and expressed his apologies to the people of Japan for the shadow the yakuzas had wrought across their great nation. He vowed to rebuild a legitimate empire from the ashes, focused on honoring their past, but not repeating it. There was a picture of him, looking very much the same, if only slightly thinner and younger. It was strange for Akihito to think of Asami as being younger. Akihito had always imagined him being born in a three piece suit, smoking a Dunhill.

The remainder of the album outlined his rise to the top of the financial industries of Japan.

The Takabas were never mentioned again.

Takeshi explained, “I followed him, studied him. Hoping to find some weakness, some tiny shred of evidence I could use against him…”

“Why?”

“You know why, Akihito.”

Akihito shook his head. “No. NO! You can’t know that he did this. You cant even know for sure I am Takaba Akihito! There’s nothing in here to prove any of this…..”

Takeshi interrupted his burgeoning tirade, “Look at the folder in the back.”

Akihito pulled it from the album, tossing the red leather book carelessly aside almost as in a rejection of it and its contents. It was a plain blond folder with a case number printed on it and the words ‘Confidential’ emblazoned in red on the diagonal.

“How did you get this?”

“Your dear Inspector supplied it to me several months ago. For a small fee of course.”

So he hadn’t been a good cop, not really. Akihito nodded, “Of course.” The boy’s smile was thin.

The crime scene photographs were grotesque and devastating. Men lay dead, everywhere. Their bodies doused with gasoline and burned beyond recognition. His father’s body was unburned, hanging in a freezer, his eyes gouged out and his guts on the floor. His mother’s body was also unburned. She lay on her side, looking for all the world as if she had simply fallen asleep, if one ignored the small hole in her temple and the pool of blood that was her pillow. She held a small boy in her arms, he was darkhaired and looked nothing like Akihito. There was a death certificate stapled to the picture, detailing the place, time and method of death…. of Takaba Akihito.

He stared at it in horror, “But-”

“Yes, Takaba Akihito died that night too. According to all official records. There is no Asami Akihito. I have searched but he never registered a new name for you. You don't exist. Officially, Akihito, you are a ghost.”

“Then who is this boy?” He pointed to the child in his mother’s arms. That wasn’t him.

“He’s the reason I knew you were alive. I knew my baby brother, I knew his fair skin and delicate features and blond hair. He was the spitting image of his beautiful mother. I was the only one who would have known the difference. No one else outside of that compound could have known except myself. And I knew the moment I saw this photograph that you were alive, somewhere. And that someone had faked your death, switching out this boy, and kidnapping you. And I knew, that there was only one person, who could have pulled it off.”

Akihito stared at him in horror as the pieces began to fall into place. His mother kissing him goodbye. She knew. She knew what was about to happen to her. Asami blindfolding him. A man carrying him away, from his mother’s arms to the car…. the scent of iron and gunpowder in the air…. “Why? If he hated the Takabas so much, why not just… kill me too?”

Takeshi shook his head, “Perhaps it was Asami’s way of exacting revenge on your father. Raising his son, ignorant and helpless, entirely dependent on him. One last slap in Takaba-sama’s face. Perhaps it was kindness, he couldn’t bear to kill a child. Although, the child in the photograph was no older than you were…. If I had to guess though, I would say, it was gratitude.”

That was the last thing Akihito expected him to say, “Gratitude?”

“The house was old, enormous and there were secret passageways, all over it. When you were little, you liked to play in them. Takeo and I sometimes played with you. I believe that you, unintentionally, somehow led Asami to discovering the passageways. I don’t know how or why. But that was how he got in that day, that was how they infiltrated the compound and took it by surprise. The three of us were in there playing, when he and his men came. Asami shot me first and then Takeo, severing my spinal cord and killing him instantly. And then, you were gone. I laid there for hours. I heard and saw everything. I saw Asami organize the attack. I lay there on the floor as his men walked over me, kicking my body to the side like trash. I said nothing, terrified that Asami would finish the job. I laid there in the dirt, listening to the gunshots and the screams. I laid there as the smoke filled the air and the rats and roaches ran over me to get out. I laid there and watched my older brother brains drip onto the floor. His eyes were empty and they stared at me. I couldn’t close them. I couldn’t move, not a muscle, but I felt everything. And when the police finally came, all I could do was scream. I screamed and screamed but no one heard me. It wasn’t until two days later and Takeo started to stink, that they found me, half dead and half frozen. Besides you, I was one of only two that survived the attack that day”

Takeshi went silent, as if the story had exhausted him, and he could no longer bear to hold the weight of his head up.

Akihito voice was hoarse and tears were slowly rolling down his cheeks, “Who- was the other?”

“You already met him.”

“Yuri?”

“He was our father’s right hand man; sworn to serve the Takabas to his dying breath. He spat in Asami’s face. Asami’s man took exception to that. Yuri’s tongue wad cut out and the man forced him to eat it before he slit his throat. That man still works for Asami I believe, he wore glasses…. what was his name?”

Akihito supplied the name numbly, “Kirishima”

“Yes. That was it. It was Yuri who saved me. He made sure that we were both hidden; false names, false papers. All of the money in banks was distributed to various charities based on a condition of Takaba-sama’s will in the event of no living survivors. I believe the Will was also falsified, but can’t prove it. Asami didn’t want to take the chance of anyone resurrecting the Takaba yakuza. With the family dead and the money gone, there was nothing left. Fortunately, a large portion of our father’s wealth was kept in gold, untrackable, untraceable. Only Takaba-sama’s highest ranking men knew the location. Yuri was one of them. And thats how we live now, quite comfortably, selling off a little at a time, to avoid suspicion. And half of that wealth, belongs to you, baby brother. From the moment I realized you lived, I have thought of nothing else. I have longed to reunite with my precious little brother. I thought it was an impossible dream. I knew you were trapped by Asami, essentially erased from existence, living a lie, forced to love the very man who destroyed your family and killed your beloved mother. I never thought you would get my message, much less understand it, and the possibility that you might actually seek me out…. I never dared hope for such a thing. But you did.”

Takeshi’s wheelchair rolled silently forward until it stopped, their knees almost touching. Akihito was crying. He was sobbing, great big ugly shudders and grunts of pain as his entire life and every good memory he had ever had of Asami was torn out of his heart by the roots, leaving giant holes in Akihito’s chest. Holes he felt would never heal.

Slowly he reached out, closing the inches between them with his thin hand. His cold finger touched the tears on Akihito’s cheek and the boy could feel the electricity coursing through his body, transmitted through the fluid and making his skin tingle. The strange sensation just made him cry harder until he was almost hysterically choking on his sobs. He looked up through his tears at the blurry image of his older brother. Suddenly Yuri was there, handing him a glass of milk.

Takeshi smiled at him, cold fingers tangled in his hair, his head resting heavy on the top of his head, “Drink your milk, Akihito. In the morning everything will be better. We are going to make up for lost time, you and I, every minute of the past fifteen years.”

Akihito was deaf to his words. His body felt numb and cold. He drank the milk obediently and within moments the cup fell from his limp fingers. Yuri carried his slender body down the hall, placing him on the white bed. His breathing was deep and even and he did not stir from his Belladonna-induced sleep.

Yuri removed his kimono and both men stared hungrily at the beauty of his naked body, even though they had seen it only hours before through the double-sided mirrors. Akihito was even more beautiful up close. Takeshi had been thrilled to see that his natural tendencies were still intact. The boy still liked pink… he still wanted to be like his mother. And he was still ashamed of it. Takeshi had known, the moment he rubbed off the lipstick, that Akihito was still the same confused little boy inside.

Takeshi mused aloud, the thoughts they were both thinking, “He looks just like her, and yet, in some ways, he’s even more beautiful than she ever was. By the time we got to her, his mother’s innocence was already long gone. But Akihito is still pure. So trusting and innocent. Asami kept him completely isolated and completely naive. Like an infant, he has no concept of the dark things in this world, no concept of evil….. He’s so tiny, so delicate, and so helpless. ... He's perfect.”

Takeshi’s eyes roamed his pale flesh and narrowed on the glands between his legs. Almost perfect. The morning could not come soon enough. Tomorrow his baby brother would wake to his new reality. It would be his first day of his new life; transforming into the person he was meant to be, formed and molded by Takeshi’s powerful hand. Akihito belonged to him, he always had. He knew what was best for him. He would make him remember and he would erase Asami’s touch on him. Akihito would be his again.

He ached to see his mark, the one he had left on the boy all those years ago. His dilated pupils took in the faint round circle on the bottom of Akihito’s heel. It had been marred by a new mark, a deep cut and that irritated Takeshi intensely. But he would make a new one. New marks all over the boy, inside and out. He could almost smell the scent of burning flesh and the lovely, helpless sound of a baby’s innocent screams, remembering how he had held his father’s discarded cigarette to the bottom of his little foot. How beautiful Akihito could scream. He longed to hear him sing again.

Takeshi’s memories of his early years were a blur, except for those that involved Akihito and his mother. Each one of those memories was etched into into his mind, every sight, smell and sound; colored with the warm nostalgia of childhood. Takeshi’s fondest recollections were of his time playing with Akihito, his precious, precious brother. For so long, he had taken them out and relived them one by one, over and over again, with the pain and longing of his loss.

But now, by some miracle, now he had the opportunity to make new ones. New memories… and not with any more pale imitations or poor replicas. Here laid before him was the angel of his dreams. Returned to earth. Returned to him…. and now, dragged back down to hell.

Takeshi slowly and painfully leaned his head down to kiss Akihito’s scar.

His voice was hoarse with anticipation, “What fun you and I are going to have, my sweet helpless _Otōto_ ....”

-


	30. Mary and Her Lambs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extreme violence in this chapter (Not Akihito, not yet)

Takeshi was almost purring as he slowly and carefully cut the newspaper clipping out. Each movement was excruciatingly difficult and very, very painful. But worth it, to build his strength and dexterity at using the implants. It was already much easier than it had been a few short months ago. Until Takeshi had realized that Akihito was alive, he had been content to allow Yuri take take care of his every need and to paint his masterpieces. The servant was very diligent and always did as he was told. Takeshi was the director and Yuri was the actor. For his entire life, Yuri had been his hands and feet. And that had been all he had needed.

But Takeshi was unwilling to let Akihito see him that way, as helpless and bed bound. His entire outlook on life had changed the moment he realized that the boy declared dead in his mother’s arms, was not Akihito. He had used a substantial portion of his resources on the implant system that stimulated his muscles and allowed movement. And it was painful, the electrical shocks were transmitted intermittently to his brain by his damaged spinal cord. The pain was worth it, it was all worth it. For now he could move, in his wheelchair of course, and feed himself. Dignity.

Yes, Takeshi smiled as he carefully, slowly cut the newspaper clipping out. It was a grainy picture of an ambulance in front of Club Sion, the headline screaming “Asamu Ryuichi Shot! Sion Industries in Turmoil as CEO lays in Coma!”

It was a headline and picture that none of the major newspapers would dare print, not if they wanted to stay in business. But even Asami Ryuichi couldn’t control every tabloid rag and seedy night-crawling photographer. That was why Takeshi watched the rags religiously for news Asami wouldn’t want out. And this photo was the culmination of his life’s dreams; Asami Ryuichi laid low and by none other than Takaba Akihito.

Takeshi was so proud of him.

Which is why he wanted everything perfect before Akihito awoke. Once the clipping was secured in the album, Takeshi closed it and rolled silently down the dark hall towards the grinding sounds coming from the kitchen. The door was coded to open automatically once Takeshi got in range and it slid open to reveal Yuri and the Inspector. Well, what was left of the Inspector.

Yuri had him up on the butcher block. His arms and legs had already been removed and skinned and placed to the side.. Takeshi didn’t care much for the stringy meat that came from the calves and forearms, they mostly fed that to the dogs. But the thighs and biceps were often quite meaty and succulent, and the flanks.

The man’s limbless torso was cracked open, the ribs yawning and Yuri was busy carefully extracting each organ and wrapping them airtight in plastic wrap. It preserved the freshness of the meat, even after freezing. The two of them could only eat so much meat at a time. Although, now there were three. Takeshi watched him work for a while. This was an area that Yuri truly shined in, the neat and exquisite dissection of the human body. He had raised it to an art form, allowing no part to go to waste, from the brains to the tongue to the very marrows of the bones.Yuri had a way of turning even the least palatable portions of the kill into delicious gourmet.

When he was done removing the internal organs, Yuri carefully inspected the hollow insides of the chest cavity, his black gloved hands delving in to clean off some of the stringy bits of fascia that clung like cobwebs to the bones. Instead of the chain saw he had preferred in the beginning, Yuri had evolved to use a reciprocating blade saw. It was a much less noisy and cleaner way of cutting the meat into more manageable sections. He neatly cut under the Inspector’s armpits and just below his last rib to create a section of torso that Yuri would use to create his favorite culinary masterpiece, His presentation was always so morbid and exquisite, the bones blooming from the meat.

Takeshi smiled in anticipation, “Rack of Lamb tomorrow?”

Yuri nodded slowly, setting the man’s chest cavity aside in a large broiling dish and drizzling it with marinade. He would let it soak before garnishing with an herb crust and roasting over night. By tomorrow, the meat would be so tender it would all but fall off the bone.

The man’s genitals were already missing and Takeshi knew where the meat for Akihito’s dish had come from. That was perhaps why the boy hadn’t liked them. They were too fresh. Takeshi preferred to let them soak in a sweet marinade for a while, to let the bitterness fade from the fatty meat. Takeshi’s own meal had come from a little lamb they had neutered months ago, so his had gotten to marinate.

The rest of the Inspector was dealt with quickly, turned over and skinned. His severed buttocks were split in two, one from the other and wrapped, the long lines of muscle stripped from his back and rolled. Yuri had a talent for stripping skin from muscles and muscle from bone, leaving it all clean and neat. He used the saw and opened the head, gently removing the brain, intact, from its sack. He placed that in a bowl to soak in a black butter sauce. Yuri’s cervelle de veau was fantastic, mixed in with scrambled eggs and topped with capers. It was best made from fresh brain and seeing as how the spongy meat did not freeze well, Takeshi knew he could look forward to several morning of delicious high protein breakfasts.

He was a bit of a hedonist, he admitted it and while he was careful not to overindulge, Takeshi had no shame in the pleasure he took from eating. The Inspector would be delicious of course, but he was a full grown sheep, not a tender and succulent lambs that Takeshi and Yuri generally preferred. But fresh meat was always appreciated, and what better way to dispose of a body. The dogs were given the bones and skin, and what they didn’t eat was burned and composted in their indoor garden. Every part of them used.

Takeshi wanted to laugh. The Inspector had truly believed he would be paid. The risk Takeshi had taken the first time, even though he had been paid in gold coin, had been almost more than he could bear. A second transaction was sure to raise suspicion. Takeshi was under no illusions thats the Inspector would spend it wisely. He would blow it all at once, in a frivolous and gaudy manner, sure to attract attention. No, the good Inspector was in a much better place now, safe and sound, wrapped and preserved, in Takeshi’s freezer. Any video footage of him entering the building would be disposed of and if suspicion was raised about his disappearance, it would lead right back to Asami’s doorstep, seeing as how he was the one who mutilated and beat the poor officer the night before.

Yes, the only loose end was the note. Takeshi doubted Akihito would have left it anywhere Asami could find. Although even if he did, it would only dead end back to the missing Inspector Onoda. Takeshi felt quite confident that he had left no trail of breadcrumbs for Asami to follow. No one would take his Akihito away from him again.

He had to prepare the boy’s new home. Takeshi waited patiently for Yuri to finished packing the meat into the large industrial freezer. He had to rearrange it a bit to get it all inside. The Inspector’s organs were so much larger than those that usually graced the cold shelves. Yuri liked to neatly arrange them by type. The full grown heart looked almost grotesquely large next to the small hearts next to it. A old nursery rhyme played in Takeshi’s head and he hummed softly. _Ten little fingers and ten little toes. Two little arms & one little nose…_

Yuri stripped off the black gloves and his black apron. Not a speck of blood lay on his crisp, immaculate suit. Takeshi felt blessed to have such a meticulous servant. He would let him choose today.

“How would you like to see Puppy do it?” He asked pleasantly.

Yuri’s fingers hovered over the boning knife. That was his favorite.

To Takeshi’s surprise, he didn’t pick it up. He left it sheathed and walked towards the kennel. It wasn’t until his fingers lifted one of the leashes from the hook on the wall, caressing the thick braided leather, that Takeshi understood. His black eyes gleamed in the dark. How very poetic.

They went into the kennel and the Takeshi’s eyes gleamed when he beheld the dogs in the cages, all neat in a row. Yuri took the fresh meat he had stripped from the Inspectors calves and threw it into the Doberman’s cages. They were always kept slightly hungry. It made them meaner. The voracious animals went after the raw meat, scenting the blood and snarling and gnashing their teeth at one another even through the bars. The dogs were all black as midnight, except for one; the one in the last cage, shrinking into the corner. He bent his blond head and picked up the meat in his teeth and chewed it clumsily. His blunt teeth weren’t nearly sharp enough to shred it. He would have to chew and chew and chew to get it soft enough to swallow. Yuri and Takeshi watched him for a while, their eyes gleaming before Yuri walked over and opened the door to his cage. He leaned against the bars in the back whimpering as Yuri attached the leash to his collar. It only took a few pulls before he came out. The Puppy knew better than to resist, even though every step hurt him.

He stumbled forward on all fours, but he wasn’t on his hands and knees. Those were both long gone. The Puppy tottered after Yuri on the stumps of his mutilated limbs. The wounds had healed but they were still tender, the new skin being so thin over the bone. He could only communicate through barks, whimpers and non-verbal gestures. His tongue was the first thing he lost in his puppy training. His blond hair was tied in two pigtails that hung over his human ears like puppy ears and a piece of his scalp had been grafted to his tailbone. The hair had been growing for as long as puppy had been with them. The long blond hair hung between the cleft of his bottom, obscuring his anus from view. But not his genitals. Puppy had none. He had lost those when he gained his tail. Just like a real puppy. Unfortunately, he couldn’t wag it. But then, he had no cause. Puppy had been with them a long, long time. The boy was naked, the only thing he wore was a black leather collar. It shone on his pale skin, although he was dirty, so dirty. Puppy needed a bath. It had been a long time since they had played with him.

He shivered on his stumps as Yuri yanked him over a metal grate and hosed his thin body off with freezing cold water. He was roughly dried and then yanked him by his leash over to a tall metal table. Yuri lifted him up onto the table and caressed his trembling buttocks lustfully.

“No”, hissed Takeshi. “After.”

Yuri nodded and slowly tied Puppy’s leash to the metal hook that hung from the ceiling. They used it to keep Puppy still for his groomings and his hair cuts and their games. Yuri tied it looser than normal, usually Puppy could hardly even move. This time, he had lots of slack, more than enough.

Takeshi moved to stand in front of the table, and then he gave Puppy his command, “Come”

Puppy _never_ disobeyed. Not anymore.

His blank blue eyes looked at Takeshi and the four foot drop at the edge of the table. And then he came. He fell off the table headfirst, the leash stopping his fall and yanking his back upright by the neck. His stumps pinwheeled in the air, too short to reach the floor. Takeshi was rather reminded of a piñata. He wondered what would happen if they broke him open.

Apparently, Yuri had the same thought. As Puppy convulsed, slowly strangling to death, Yuri started the chainsaw.

Takeshi relished Puppy’s one last look of surprised horror as Yuri plunging the blade into his belly and tore him in half. It had been so long since he saw anything but total blankness in those pretty blue eyes.

His bottom half hit the floor with a sickening splat, and his upper half convulsed in the air; his cute little stumps twitching. Takeshi was going to miss those. So adorable.

Yuri left the top half swinging. He unzipped his pants and took out his rock hard cock, lifting the severed buttocks of the boy, grabbing it by the hips and and impaling it in the anus. With each drive of his hips, blood, feces and intestines were slung out onto the metal table.

Now that Puppy was dead, Takeshi found the defilement of his corpse rather tasteless and macabre. For Takeshi, their games were all about power and sadism. Without the victim alive and awake to experience it, he found it pointless. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the sexual aspect of their games. He did, he often got erections and occasionally ejaculated. But the sexual pleasures were secondary to the sadism. Not so for Yuri. The man just loved to fuck…. To fuck and to cut. Takeshi waved his hand dismissively, “Don’t forget to clean up.”

Yuri eyes were wild as he humped into the corpse’s severed bottom and Takeshi wasn’t sure if he heard him, but it was unnecessary. He knew, come morning, the kennel would be spotlessly clean. As would be their primary playroom. All ready for their new playmate. Their last playmate. They wouldn’t need anymore after Akihito. He was Takeshi’s first and he would be his last.

Recreating his time with Akihito had been his life’s obsession. Even in death, the memories of his baby brother had haunted him. How their story had ended before it had even begun. All of his life he had tried to recapture the feeling his little brother had roused in him. Trying to write an ending to his story. So far none had satisfied him.

Takeshi stopped in his gallery, turning the lights up slightly so he could taken in each and every masterpiece.

His life’s work. His doll collection.

First was the framed portrait of Akihito’s mother. A smudged, creased, faded photograph of her. It was the picture of her that he had stolen from his father’s desk, the one that had been folded in his pocket the day his life had changed. She was naked, wearing pearls and heels. Her legs were spread wide and the shaved pink gash between them was clearly visible. There was a look of humiliated despair written on her face. She had not wanted to take this photo, that much was obvious. And that was what made the portrait so utterly lovely to Takeshi.

After Marie came all of her little lambs. One by one by one…. all the little boys and girls Takeshi had purchased over the years.. Most had come from Eastern Europe, but there were a few French boys Takeshi had paid a premium for. The human trafficking rings knew his preferences well and he rewarded them richly when they found something to his liking. They were all beautiful, none so much as Akihito, but still quite pretty with their pale skin, blue eyes and blond hair. Each one wore a similar expression of despair on their beautiful faces as they humiliated themselves in various ways before his camera. He had captured them at their peak, after they were broken, at the moment they became his. Willing to do anything and everything to please him.

That was the true beauty of them to Takeshi’s eyes. They were all ages, toddlers to teens. Many were missing limbs, missing tongues, eyes and almost all of them had their genitals somehow mutilated. The boys had pink vertical scars between their thighs where their testicles and penises had been. Yuri and Takeshi had not removed a single one. The children had done it to themselves. At his request. He asked and they obeyed.

That was the true beauty of his work.

Takeshi’s particular brand of sadism was unique in that he didn’t just hurt them. He hollowed them out from the inside. Scooping everything out until they were simply toys, little dolls for Takeshi and Yuri to abuse and consume as they saw fit. He raped their minds until they didn’t hate him anymore. The game wasn’t won until they hated themselves. Each one was unique but each ended the same, identical looks of despair and the desire for death shining from hundreds of blue eyes that looked down at Takeshi from his gallery. He had broken each one the way it would hurt them the most, hand crafted by their deepest darkest fears and insecurities. Each torture was tailor made. Like perfect handcrafted porcelain dolls.

They had developed many games over the years and sacrificed so many, many little lambs.

Oh yes, he and Yuri had painted many masterpieces together. Yuri was the paintbrush and Takeshi was the artist. Takeshi had had years to practice, to perfect his skills. And this last piece, Takeshi wanted to sculpt with his own hands.

His pièce de résistance.

-


	31. GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING

Ok so if that chapter disturbed you; STOP.

Stop reading this right now. Part three of this story is the Phobias. I did the Philias and I always intended to do the phobias too. There were a number of phobias that interested me. Each chapter hit on two, much like the philia chapters. My list was this:

Maieusiophobia, Gynophobia  
Pyrophobia, Agoraphobia  
Hydrophobia, Hemophobia  
Mastigophobia, Atychiphobia  
Cynophobia, Autophobia  
Claustrophobia, Nyctophobia  
Entomophobia, Taphophobia  


I had also intended to do Apotemnophobia, Inverseverticalitis, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Astraphobia, Trypanophobia and a few others but I actually had to stop early. I was having severe nightmares. It took me a week to write the phobia chapters and I woke up screaming almost every night. And it wasn’t just the phobia chapters that got to me, it was the flashbacks which explain how these phobias were established in Akihito as a child, by Takeshi’s abuse. The present timeline chapters are graphic and extremely disturbing depictions of a character we love being driven out of his mind. But the flashbacks are of him being abused a child. They are short and I did not depict what was happening graphically. But somehow they came out just as powerful. Once you read them they will get under your skin like a splinter, you won’t be able to get them out.

Regardless, most of this was written from Takeshi’s point of view. So I had to put on his skin on to write it. He's Mason Verger and Hannibal Lector and The Collector and fucking Chuckie. Gleeful fucking sadists. Writing him, I think I began to feel a bit like Heath Ledger must have felt when he got too close to the Joker. There were originally meant to be thirteen Phobia chapters. But the intensity ended up being so far and above what I originally intended to write that the seven I wrote are more than enough. And my poor brain cried the same. _Enough_.

I have my reasons for writing this. Confronting my own demons if you will. Some of those phobias are mine. The chapters are my worst nightmares, the darkest things I can imagine and far beyond anything I ever thought I could write. So, unless you have a very strong desire to see Akihito tortured and driven out of his mind, graphically, realistically, horrifically.... there’s absolutely no reason to read the next thirteen chapters (Six flashbacks, Seven phobias). Essentially, Yuri and Takeshi torture Akihito until he shatters. There is rape and confinement, waterboarding, branding, bestiality, forcible use of psychedelic drugs, and extreme mindfucking. A lot of you have begged me not to do this. But the rest of the story can’t exist without it. Akihito does come out of it physically intact. But thats all I can promise you.

I do still have an incredible story to tell once this part is over. It is a story of a person being as broken as a human being can be and coming back from over the edge. It is ultimately a story of triumph over demons and this is just a very short part of it. But then again, as Alice asked the White Hair: _How long is forever? Sometimes, just one second._

 

Please, if you have doubts about your ability to handle it, skip the torture. Pick up reading again in **Chapter 47** , when Asami finds him. All you need to really know is that, by then, Akihito will be completely insane. And its not his fault.


	32. Maieusiophobia, Gynophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of a monster

Moments after Takaba Takeshi was born, his mother died. Because of him, because he ripped her apart as he made his way out of her body backwards.

At least, thats what everyone was told.

It was partly true. 

The birth was long and painful, but that wasn’t what killed her.

The room smelled like death and iron. Sweat trickled down the tortured First Wife's face and then the grimace of pain and the panting turned to an animalistic scream of pure torture. Her abdomen rippled convulsively and she hunched over, clutching at her stomach as she moaned in despair. The contractions slowed a bit every so often, but then they would return with more fury and vengeance than before; leaving the First Wife covered with sweat and shaking from the pain. Contractions tore through her body and her stretched and swollen cunt gushed blood with each involuntary spasm of her muscles. She knew she was torn, badly. But it was a distant, distant second to the horrific pain inside her body. It felt like there was a wild animal trying to claw its way out through her stomach, tearing her to pieces as it went. It was a pain she could never have imagined.

For her first labor, she had been rushed to the Tokyo hospital, amidst all the pomp and circumstance of a yakuza crimelord’s wife giving birth to his male heir. Her every comfort was taken care of and every last detail was seen to, to insure that Takaba’s first born son was delivered healthy and intact. She had spent the majority of her labor sedated, with an epidural administered and so the most she had felt was a great pressure, but no pain, not really. A few hours later, she had delivered Takaba-sama a strong baby boy who came into the world with an indignant scream, his large red fists beating against the air, delivered into the arms of his proud father.

This time, she was alone, but for a few pale faced girls. A yakuza turf war, a major clash between the Asami and Takaba clans was going down and Takaba-sama informed her that he could not spare the men to take her to the hospital and guard her. She would have to give birth at home. When she cried and protested, Takaba-sama looked at her coldly, disdainfully and called her weak. Women had been giving birth outside of hospitals for thousands of years. He decided that she could do the same. 

There was no one there to help if things went wrong. 

And something was wrong. Very wrong. The First Wife had been in labor for so long she had lost all track of time. It stopped having any meaning, paled in relation to the pain.

Without warning the contractions started again. Her eyes jolted open as she felt herself tear further, agony ripping up her spine. She couldn't stop the contractions, even as it felt like her own body was tearing itself apart. Bright hot pain rippled through her thighs and groin, her stretched and bulging stomach, her lower back, crawling up her spine. She didn't realize there could ever be this much pain at one time. She was overcome with agony, her eyes wild and blood shot as the screams were forced from her lips. Again and again they rang out, piercing the silence of the compound. In her pain, she did not notice her husband enter the room, his black eyes dark with anger and annoyance.

She was slapped harshly across the cheek; dazing her and for a moment her screams stopped. She stared up at him hopelessly. She knew she was dying, and so was her baby, trapped inside her. She watched in confusion as he dismissed the servants and slowly and methodically pulled on two black rubber gloves with a ‘snap’.

The First Wife lay helpless, exhausted and weak and dizzy with pain and loss of blood, as her husband tied her hands above her head. Her legs followed suit, one by one, tied spread to the bed posts, exposing the giant pool of blood and feces between her legs. She tried kicking him and was punched this time, viciously in the face. Her head cracked to the side and blood began to pool in her mouth from her broken teeth.

Takaba-sama looked down at her ravaged body coldly, without pity. She had been ugly to him before, with her plain face, saggy tits and fleshy belly, but now she seemed horrifically grotesque. How he had ever managed to get her pregnant, not once, but twice was beyond him. He had married her to help cement his ties with another yakuza conglomerate. She was foisted upon him, a necessary burden he was forced to take on in order to achieve his goals. And while she had birthed him a son, Takaba-sama despised her. He despised her for her ugliness, how embarrassed he felt with her at his side. She was a proud woman. Though he could not see what she had to be proud about. He hated her for her empty pride, her sharp tongue and passive aggressive ways. He hated the way she thought she held some sort of power over him just because she was her father’s daughter.... But most of all he hated the fact that she was right. He was ready to be done with her. And while he could not kill her openly, for there were many men in his organization still loyal to her father, he could make sure she did not come out of this room alive. He had been waiting for this moment a long, long time, waiting to teach the First Wife a lesson in humility. To teach her, that all a woman really ever was, was a hole for a man.

But, it would be nice if the baby lived, he thought to himself. It would be nice to have two. An heir and a spare. 

Nice. But not necessary. 

His large hands spread her cunt recklessly, his thick fingers twisting into the torn flesh around the baby’s lower body. The infant was in breech, its body conrtorted and doubled up, too large to pass through the small opening of her body. His muscles bulged as he pulled it open, his ears ringing with her screams as weakened muscles and skin yielded to his superior strength. Her perineum tore, shredding the thin separation between her rectum and vagina, turning her genitals into one massive gaping void, gushing blood. The First Wife felt a wetness fill her suddenly, sticky and hot and nauseating. She swallowed down bile as his gloved hands thrust inside; his fingers searching, grabbing and twisting inside her as her husband ripped her apart with his bare hands, slinging blood across the room. The pain was red, red hot as she felt his fingernails scratching and tearing at her insides.

Finally, finally, he pulled the baby free of her body and she felt herself collapse inside, giving one last pained cry as he grasped the umbilical cord and ripped it free of her, pulling part of the placenta from the uterus wall, shredding delicate vessels and causing a fresh hemorrhage of blood to pour from her body. 

She hovered in and out of consciousness until she heard the baby begin to cry, screaming as his lungs took their first breath of air. Her ears rang with his cries and she forced her eyes open, eager to see her baby, even as she continued to bleed. Her hands and feet were numb and purple from the tight bondage. She wanted to live, she might still live, if Takaba-sama got her to a doctor in time...

The First Wife’s voice was hoarse and barely recognizable from the hours of screaming, “Please, a doctor. Please, take me to the hospital. Please….”

Her husband looked up from the baby and over at her in annoyance, almost as if he had forgotten she was there, like the discarded wrapping from a Christmas present.... Now just trash to clean up. 

He placed the baby on its back and walked over to her. His hands were still gloved. Red blood steadily dripping from the fingertips and down onto the floor. His hands balled into a fist and suddenly she realized, this had been his plan all along…. and that her living through the birth was not part of his design. He grabbed a dirty, blood soaked rag from the floor and shoved it in her mouth, stuffing it into her throat until she could hardly breathe. 

And then he shoved his arm inside her. Her sex was ablaze with pain as he twisted and clawed his way deeper inside her, his fingers digging and stretching and contorting her ruined insides painfully, stretching her slack belly again. And then he balled his hands up and began to punch her. Punch her from the inside. He pulled his hand out, his fingers spread as wide as they could go. It felt like he was trying to pulled her insides out. He then shoved back in, up to the elbow, sending his fist banging painfully against her cervix, compressing her womb. It felt like he was trying to force his way inside it and into her guts. The afterbirth was forcefully ejaculated with every punch, blood splashing and spraying across his face. The First Wife would have quickly bled to death from the many torn and severed arteries inside her ruined belly, but Takaba-sama was not content to let her death be a slow or peaceful one. 

He fucked her life’s blood out of her with his fist, driving it as forcefully and brutally as he could into her ruined belly, relishing every spasm of pain and hot burst of blood around his arm. She screamed and screamed and screamed.

The newborn baby watched it all, his black eyes so wide the whites were visible all the way around. It was the first and the last time he ever heard his mother’s voice. It was the only lullaby she ever sang to him.

After that, all the baby knew, was silence.

Takaba Takeshi was handed over to one of the servants, a wet nurse, a pale silent women who had been kidnapped from her home and abused and mistreated every moment of every day that she had been forced to serve the Takabas. For the most part, she simply ignored the baby. She never spoke to him, rocked him or held him. She never even touched him, except to feed him. Sometimes, on particularly bad days, she would choke him, shoving her nipple into his mouth too hard and squeezing the fluid into his throat. But she was careful, she wasn’t stupid. The woman never hurt him in any way that would be obvious. She was beaten when he cried, so she found many ways of keeping him quiet, often suffocating him until he passed out. But she was always very very careful not to kill the baby. It would not have resulted in her death. Takaba-sama would never have made her punishment so easy as that. 

Her abuse of Takeshi was for the most part, simply neglect. And so the baby grew, he grew without love, affection or kindness. Without the most basic of human contact. His older brother Takeo occasionally played with him, but more as one would a toy or an object, roughly, carelessly. Takeo’s own emotional growth was quite stunted, but he had at least been suckled on the teat a woman who had not hated him to her very marrow. He had at least been loved by his mother, even if only for a few short years. Takeshi would never know that.

One night, when he was a little over a year old, Takeshi woke up with a fever. His head hurt and his body hurt and his throat was sore and he could hardly breath. He began to cry. 

The wet nurse tried to soothe him, but the baby was inconsolable. Nothing she did made him feel better. His cries turned into shrieks of frustrated anger and soon they woke Takaba- sama, sending him into a drunken rage.

His breath smelled like whiskey, his hair was wild and his face dark with anger that he released onto the poor servant girl’s body. He beat her about the head and shoulders, carelessly smashing her face with his fists. With each crack of bone and tooth, she screamed in fear and pain. 

And the screams soothed Takeshi like a lullaby. 

He lay in his crib and watched his father beat her, humiliating her with every strike.

“Fucking useless whore. Stupid cunt can’t even take care of a baby. What good are you?”

He held her one her knees, his hand crushing her jaw, contorting her swollen face as blood, tears and snot ran down her chin. Her blouse had torn during her struggles and one of her sagging breasts hung from its confines. She had been purchased from the human traffickers because she was lactating and Takaba-sama needed her to feed his son. Her baby daughter had not been needed and so she was left behind. To this day, the wet nurse did not know what had become of her. It was most likely that she had died. Probably a blessing. She had been breastfeeding for six months before she was kidnapped and had now been lactating for nearly two years. The permanently swollen glands hung heavy inside her stretched skin, now long distorted and slack. Long dark stretchmarks decorated the loose skin with stripes. Now free of her bra, her lumpy, sagging tit hung nearly to her waist. Takaba-sama sneered at the sight of it. 

“What the fuck is this? Look at this pathetic teat. This is what you’ve been feeding my son with? You nasty fucking cow. A nasty cow with disgusting, floppy udders.”

He punched her in her exposed breast as hard as he could. She screamed in pain and would have fallen to the floor had he not held her upright by her hair. He ripped off the rest of her shirt and bra, leaving her naked from the waist up, her sagging breasts bared to his sadistic humiliation. He jeered and mocked her as he held her down and began to repeatedly slap her tits, laughing as they swung. At first he was just slapping her tit, but then he literally began beating it harder and harder making the girl’s body wince in pain with each stroke, enjoying the way the thin skin bloomed with bruises under his gaze. He smacked them hard from the underside, the skin rippling as her breast was throw into the air. When they fell, they ripped pain through her chest, the delicate tendons inside tearing. He grasped her nipple and used it to lift her tit, using the weight of her own breast to torture her as the heavy gland was supported only by her tender, dusky nipple. He pulled on it hard, as if he was trying to yank it off, twisting and pulling until her breast was stretched and distorted. He repeated it with the other nipple, abusing them both, gouging them with his nails until they were both bleeding.

The wet nurse began to cry uncontrollably, holding her mutilated breasts and trying to protect them from the onslaught. Takaba-sama’s eyes glowed cruelly. She was an ugly girl too, much like his First Wife, with buckteeth and her hideous floppy titties. But she was so pathetic, so helpless, so utterly terrified…. it was like getting a shot of Viagra straight to his dick.

He unbuckled his pants slowly, enjoying the moment of realization and terror that slowly spread across her face, “Open your mouth cow.”

He grabbed her bruised tits and held them tight, using them to control her body as he tilted her head back and shoved his cock right down her throat, not giving a shit whether she could breath or not. Her throat was nothing more than a hole for him to fuck. And her gagging and muffled screams only fueled his lust. Unfortunately after only a few minutes, she seemed to pass out.

He gripped one of her swollen nipples and began squeezing and twisting it. With his cock buried down her throat all he could hear was a muffled high-pitched scream. He mauled her engorged beaten tits in his hand, squeezing the delicate glands inside until he swore he felt them burst like grapes. Each muffled scream around his cock was music to his ears. 

Suddenly he noticed a warm hot liquid bursting into his palm with each brutal squeeze. He looked down, expecting to see blood. And he did, but it was mixed with her thick white breast milk. Takeshi burbled in his crib and Takaba-sama’s eyes gleamed cruelly.

“No sense in being wasteful heifer. Lets put your nasty udders to use.”

He ripped her pants down and forced her to lean over the side of Takeshi’s crib so her distorted breasts would hang down. Then he walloped his hand two times in quick succession across the top of her tits. The pain just rocked right through her body and the wet nurse looked down to see her huge bulging breasts. They ached and throbbed with her heart beat. They hurt so much. They were becoming a darker color, almost purplish from the beating. She could see his fingers marks and bright red hematomas from where he had crushed her milk glands. They were lopsided, hideous, bulbous, and deformed. Damaged inside. Permanently. She began to cry as she realized the implication. 

If she could no longer produce milk, Takaba-sama no longer had a use for her. 

Like a cow. 

Blood and milk trickled from the areolas and Takeshi crawled over, hungry. The baby began to suckle as Takaba-sama entered her from behind, ripping his way into her dry, unused canal as she screamed. 

Takeshi looked up at his father where he was leaning over her shoulder, grunting like an animal, his dark hair over his brow as he raped the wet nurse viciously. Her pained cries began to die down and the baby frowned. He liked the screaming. It made him feel happy. Petulantly, he bit down on her nipple as hard as he could, his tiny baby teeth piercing the skin. He gurgled happily as she screamed again and began to repeatedly bite at her nipples, relishing the taste of her blood mixing with the milk. It was delicious.

Takeshi looked up at his father and his father looked back at him. The boy bit down, puncturing her nipple again to hear her scream. Takaba-sama jerked his hips forward, wrenching another pained scream from the savaged maid. He grinned down at his son, his gaze filled with pride and their eyes made contact for the first time in the baby’s entire life.

It was the first time, Takaba Takeshi ever felt loved.

-


	33. Flashback

Takeshi was five years old when his father married the second wife. He was six when he saw Akihito for the first time.

He fell in love at first sight.

The baby was perfect.... Perfectly helpless.

Takeshi had long been bored. Bored and frustrated. He was tired of being the smallest. He had no one to play with. He envied his father almost obsessively. His father was so strong, so mighty. So powerful. And he could make people scream so beautifully. Most especially the second wife.

Takeshi was a little obsessed with her too. He would lay awake at night listening to her scream, every night, it was like a lullaby, singing him to sleep. It was so beautiful. Her voice was so lovely, contorted by the pain and anguish and humiliation his father inflicted on her. It was like a song. And he loved to hear her sing. The only thing Takeshi liked more was to watch her pain. He would creep into their room and hide and wait until his father came home. Every night was something new. He liked to watch her cry and he liked the way her beautiful face moved and distorted in her pain. It made Takeshi’s little cock get hard in his pants and he liked to rub it while she cried.

But it frustrated him, because he wasn’t the one making her cry. His father had his mother to play with and Takeo had the dogs. Takeo loved to pick up strays from the streets, he liked to tie them up and cut them open as messily and painfully as possible. Takeo didn’t care much to play with humans, he only like animals, sometimes birds and cats, but mostly dogs. Takeshi didn’t like animals. What was the point of hurting a dumb animal? You couldn’t humiliate a dog. They didn’t care.

Takeshi longed to have someone to play with. A playmate.

The moment he saw Akihito, he knew his dreams had come true. He was like a teeny tiny version of his mother. So pretty and delicate. And so much weaker than him.

He crept up on the newborn and stared down at the little bundle. He could hear the second wife in the next room with his father. She had only just started to cry. They wouldn’t be done for a while. He had Akihito all to himself.

The baby yawned, his pink lips parting in a perfect circle and then coming back together. His blue eyes fluttered open and they stared innocently, trustingly up at Takeshi. They were so, so pretty, framed by the longest lashes Takeshi had ever seen. He was so little, so helpless. He couldn’t even hold his own head up. The dark-eyed child unwrapped his baby brother from his swaddling, slowly removing the blankets and exposing his delicate skin to the cold air in the room. They said Akihito was a boy, but he was so pretty and looked so much like his mother, Takeshi had a hard time believing that. He unwrapped the diaper and peered down inside it at his tiny little nub of a penis in surprise. He really was a boy. Takeshi frowned. It seemed like a mistake. Akihito whimpered and begna squirming as his groin was exposed. Goosepimples appeared on his round tummy and chubby arms, but he didn’t cry. Takeshi wanted to hear him cry. To make him scream. This was important. It was the first time. He needed to introduce himself to his baby brother properly. To make sure the baby knew how things were going to be. To make sure Akihito understand that he belonged to Takeshi. Akihito was HIS playmate.

His pale skin was so soft and perfect. Takeshi stroked it softly. It felt like silk. He tickled the bottom of the baby’s foot like he had seen his mother do. Akihito’s whole body shivered at the light touch. He was sensitive there. Very sensitive.

Takeshi looked at the door to his parent’s room that adjoined the nursery, he could hear her starting to scream. He could hear the wet sound of his father’s palms striking her tender skin. He rarely hit her with his fists unless he was very drunk. “Not on the face”, that was what he always told his men when he handed her over to them. Takaba-sama liked her face. Takeshi liked Akihito’s face too. It was pretty, he didn’t want to mess it up.

His father’s had left a lit cigarette, still smoking in the ashtray. Takeshi had played with one of them once, he had burned his finger and the mark was still there.

Takeshi picked up the cigarette, careful to keep the lit end away from himself. He blew on it gently, stoking the flame until the embers glowed a bright orangey red. He grabbed Akihito’s little foot. The baby burbled and giggled, trying to pull his foot free from his brother’s grasp. He thought it was a game. And he was right. It was a game, the first of many they would play together. Takeshi smiled sadistically and held his tiny ankle tight as he pressed the lit butt to the bottom of Akihito’s foot.

The baby’s blue eyes went wide in shock for a moment as he tried to pull away from Takeshi’s hand. He couldn’t. He was too weak. He was weak and Takeshi was _strong_. The boy’s black eyes gleamed with a heady rush of power. This must be how his father felt. The baby’s began to scream in pain and the smell of burning flesh filled the room as Takeshi marked his brother for life. His. Forever. Akihito’s screams melded with his mother’s and Takeshi closed his eyes, listening to the music….

-


	34. Agoraphobia, Pyrophobia

Akihito woke to darkness. Pitch black, inky darkness before his eyes, as thick as a blindfold. He had no idea where he was. His heart contracted painfully in his chest and Akihito sat up to feel around him blindly, his fingers trying to find a table, a wall, something to orient him and tell him where he was.

He was on a floor of some sort. Hard and cold. Rough like cement and dusty. He whimpered in fear as he began to feel his way across the surface. It hurt his knees and he slowly stumbled his way to his battered feet, his hands outstretched as he went blindly forward into the dark. He could feel the fear like a knot in his throat. He felt completely and utterly disoriented. He was nearly sobbing by the time he found a wall. His hands scrabbled on it, searching for light switch or a door.

That was when he began to smell smoke.

It started faint but quickly became stronger and stronger. Frantically, he felt along the cold cement walls until he found a door. It was locked. That was when he began to panic. Akihito screamed and pounded on the door, but soon his screams turned to coughs as the smoke became thicker and thicker. He could feel the heat and he could see the flames now, licking their way across the floor. His heart raced, terror pounding in his chest like an animal trying to claw its way out. His pulse throbbed in his head in time with his palm smacking against the locked door.

It soon became to difficult to stand and Akihito collapsed to the ground, gasping for clean air. The cement floor felt cool on his face. He pressed his hand weakly against the door one last time...

It opened.

With the last ounce of strength he had, Akihito dragged himself out of the tiny room, breathing the clean air outside with racking cough. His throat burned and his lungs burned and his corneas felt like they had been dipped in acid.

“Hello baby brother, sleep well?”

He looked up through his scratchy eyes to see Takeshi and Yuri standing behind him.

Akihito mewled helplessly, his throat too sore to speak.

“Help our guest Yuri.”

His head was throbbing and his muscles were burning from lack of oxygen as he struggled weakly, thrown over the servant’s broad shoulder. Asami did this to him sometimes and he always hated it, hated the bent over, upsidedown feeling and the pressure on his stomach. What Akihito would have given to be over Asami’s shoulder just then.... The boy was thrown facedown on a metal operating table and immobilized; his arms were fastened above his head, his legs were spread wide apart and his ankles were strapped, keeping his legs restrained. He could feel more straps, around his upper thighs and his waist. There was one around his neck, keeping his head down on the table. He couldn’t move at all. The strap dug into his neck as he lifted his head slightly, just enough to see the room.

There was a fire in the fireplace, blazing and the sight of it sent his heart racing. Takeshi came to rest at the head of the table. His hand rested heavy on Akihito’s head and he slowly swept Aki’s hair off of his back so all of the white flesh was exposed to the cold air of the room. Akihito stared up at him, his eyes rolled back to accommodate the immobility of his neck, rolled so far that the whites of his eyes were exposed like a half moon above his lower eyelids.

Takeshi stroked his hair gently. Akihito could feel the prickling of electricity where he touched his scalp. “I was so disappointed Akihito, when I realized you didn’t remember me, your ever-loving Aniki. it broke my heart that you didn’t remember all the wonderful times we had together. Now, I know that is not your fault. Its Asami’s fault. If it hadn’t been for him, you and I would have been together, like we were always meant to be. So I want you to understand, this isn’t punishment. This is a reminder. Its a reminder of who you are and where you belong. A reminder of my love, precious baby brother.”

Akihito felt his heart thumping in his chest as the vessels seemed to constrict. It felt like he couldn’t get blood past the blockage. Takeshi moved back and Yui replaced him, holding a lit red candle.

The boy’s blue eyes stared at the flame in terrified confusion as it grew closer and closer to his cheek, a droplet of wax trembling on the tip, ready to fall….. He gasped and Takeshi spoke in a sing-song voice, from the darkness beyond his view, “Not on the face.”

Yuri’s cold eyes glimmered cruelly but he moved the flame away from Akihito’s pale cheek.

Moments later the boy felt it land on his back, like a droplet of fire, scorching his tender skin. He screamed in surprise and pain and heard Takeshi hum in pleasure.

Takeshi’s cock jolted in his pants, responding solely to the intense mental stimulation of hearing his sweet boy cry out after so many years. His baby brother laid bare and vulnerable to anything he might dream up was entirely too arousing. His pale unmarked skin was exquisitely lovely, but he would be even lovelier covered in Takeshi’s marks. The wax he had chosen was a harder wax than was generally used in sexual play. It melted at a high temperature and so the wax droplets were much, much hotter. They burned. Not enough to leave blisters or scars, but certainly enough to leave deep pink marks once the red wax was peeled off, tiny burns that would take a long, long time to fade. And they would hurt like a bitch.

His dilated black eyes took in every twitch and spasm, every lovely roll of his lithe muscles as Akihito tried to get away from the fire being dropped on his skin. His ears soaked up every tortured scream. Yuri was so talented at this, keeping it unexpected and fresh, moving from his neck to his arms, his thighs, trembling buttocks, even his little toes…. no part was left untended to. Akihito was going to look like a little pink and white dalmatian puppy when they were done with him. So cute.

Soon he was peppered with little circular splatters of wax, red circles all over his body. His cries were starting to weaken as he became inured to the intense pain. It was time to change it up. Takeshi snapped his fingers and Yuri nodded.

His large fingers pinched the boy’s buttocks apart and thrust the end of the tapered candle into his unlubricated hole. Akihito cried out in surprise and pain and his entire body jolted as if he had been shocked. He trembled and his blue eyes blinked open. Takeshi could see that he didn’t understand. 

He smiled sadistically, his large white teeth shining in the dark like the Cheshire cat, “You are going to hold that for us like a good boy. Do you know why? Because if you drop it, I’ll have Yuri put the other end inside you.”

It was gorgeous, the way his beautiful little body shuddered in terror at the idea of having a lit candle shoved up his rectum, burning and scorching his insides as it was extinguished in his flesh. Just lovely.

Perhaps they would do it anyways, even if he somehow managed not to drop it. Which was unlikely.

Takeshi and Yuri stood back out of sight, staying so quiet the boy probably thought he was all alone. He began to whimper in paralyzed fear as the candle burned down. It was a slow burning candle and it took a while for the first rivulet of wax to course its way down the shaft. Takeshi knew the moment the wax had reached his anus because Akihito screeched and jerked in his bonds, nearly dropping the candle on the table.

The sadist licked his lips.

The candle swayed in the grip of his tortured sphincter and it leaned precariously backwards. The next droplet of wax fell on the infinitely soft flesh of his testicles, trapped below his spread legs. Akihito screamed again and clenched down, bringing the candle upright again. Small streams of hot wax began to run down the side of the candle, slowly snaking over his throbbing anus, burning every little bit of it. Takeshi knew it would be as red as if they had put lipstick on it. So pretty. So painful.

Akihito began to cry and his sobs shook the candle, scorching hot droplets ran over the already present wax, taking the path gravity dictated, down between his clenched cheeks, into his delicate cleft. Akihito cried and moaned in pain but he held as still as possible, so as not to drop any wax on his privates, his testicles and penis positioned just below his crack.

Eventually his clenching muscles began to weaken and the candle shifted, sliding further into his asshole. Which meant that the wax had less candle to travel before it hit the ring of his anus, meaning that it was even hotter. For the last few minutes, his tender ring had been protected by a layer of hardened wax. The new wax, seared right through it and burned his asshole anew. He screamed and jerked, shaking the candle. All of the accumulated wax was dislodged and it flowed like a river of lava, between his legs, scorching his taint and testicles.

His asshole spasmed as he convulsed in agony, involuntarily pushing the thin cylinder right out. He realized with horror that he had dropped the candle. He had dropped the candle.

That was when Akihito began to sob hysterically. Great, heaving, wracking sobs of overwrought terror.

Yuri grinned and move the pick the candle up off of the table. He lit it again and waited for the wax to get hot as Takeshi relished the sight of his adored one’s tears.

“Please.. please don’t do it. Please…. Please don't hurt me any more. Please...”

For a moment he actually considered it. Akihito did plead so beautifully, his hoarse voice so plaintive and throbbing. But no, they could not show him mercy. The boy might grow to expect it, or worse, think that his pleading had some power over them. No, no. Spare the rod, spoil the child.

Yuri’s fingers delved between his trembling, clenching buttocks and he shoved them into the boy’s unlubricated passage, breaking the hardened wax with a crack almost like breaking bone. He grinned and then pulled his fingers out and began ripping off the wax in great chunks. It was a pity the boy didn’t have pubic hair. It would have been lovely to pull it out by the roots with the wax. Oh well. Takeshi was sure it still hurt quite abysmally regardless.

Once all the wax was removed, he could see the boy’s skin glowing red like a cooked lobster, even in the low light. It looked like his privates had been sunburned.

Yuri shoved his fingers back inside the boy. He spread them wide apart as Akihito shrieked. He wasted no time bringing the candle up and over the yawning little hole he had created with his fingers.

The red wax that poured into his hole looked like blood.

The screams torn from Akihito’s throat were almost inhuman as the hot wax was poured down his insides, burning his most intimate channel with an enema of fire.

Once the inside of his rectum was thoroughly coated in wax, Yuri shoved the flaming tip of the candle into him. He gave one last pitiful shriek but the flame was quickly extinguished, a small puff of smoke escaping his ass. Slow tendrils continued to curl into the darkness, rising from his tortured little hole.

Takeshi was sad when it was over. They wouldn’t be able to play for it for a few days. But that was ok, there were plenty of other games he could play with Akihito until his bottom healed enough to play with again. The burns were shallow, as painful as they would be, they would heal quickly. Especially with the special cream he had made. It burned like hell but it would speed up the healing process even faster. He didn’t want his little precious out of commission for too long. There was so much fun to be had.

Akihito lay there in a mass of pain. His entire existence narrowed to the hot, throbbing pain coming from inside him. It felt like they had burned him from the inside out. He was in too much pain to move, too much pain to even open his eyes, so he didn’t see Yuri lift the branding iron out of the fire and hand it to Takeshi. He didn’t see the hot iron glowing in the dark. He didn’t know what was about to happen to him.

It was probably for the best.

Yuri’s strong hands closed over his left ankles and toes, stretching his unblemished foot over the angle of the table, making the delicate skin on the arch of his foot nice and smooth. Takeshi explained, “I left my mark on you once Akihito. Marking you are mine. But the old mark is scarred over now. You messed it all up. But that’s ok. I forgive you and I’m going to give you a new one.”

He took a deep breath, enjoying the moment. This was important. It was beautiful. It was he and Akihito’s moment; symbolizing their reunification and future. It was their wedding and this was their kiss.

Takeshi had been practicing for this moment for months. His hands moved quickly and steadily as he pressed the flat of the branding iron against the bottom of Akihito’s bare foot. He held it steady and Yuri held the boy still as skin begin to burn and Akihito was forever marked by Takeshi’s symbol.

He screamed, his entire body spasming yet again despite its exhaustion. It was beautiful. The culmination of fifteen years of dreams. It was perfect. Their perfect moment together.

And then Akihito ruined it.

He screamed another man’s name. That name.

“ASAMI!!!! ASAMI!!! PLEASE, DADDY, PLEEEEAAASE!!!!!!! ASAMI!!!!”

Takeshi’s mood immediately soured. No.

How dare he? How DARE he?!

How dare he call Asami’s name during their moment? Akihito was HIS. HIS. Not Asami’s. The only name on those beautiful lips would be his. His was the only name Akihito was allowed to speak. Obviously he had underestimated Akihito’s affection for his kidnapper. He thought that exposing Asami’s lies and destroying Akihito’s trust in him would be enough. Obviously he had been wrong and more was required. Much more.

Asami had wormed his way into his precious baby brother’s head. Into his heart and soul. He realized now that he was going to have to cut him out before Takeshi could occupy those spaces. The boy was his. 

He removed the branding iron and admired the sight of his name burned into Akihito’s pale skin. Emblazoned there permanently. He would never escape him now. Takeshi moved to sit next to Akihito’s head. He hissed in his ear, “Asami is not coming for you. He doesn’t care about you anymore. You shot him and you ran away. He’s not coming for an ungrateful brat like you. He hates you, Akihito, he doesn’t care what I do to you.”

Akihito’s voice sounded like he had pebbles in his throat, thin and hoarse, “Thats… not true. Asami loves me. He’s going to come for me. And he’s going to kill you….”

Cruel fingers grabbed his face and yanked it upwards, not caring about the awkward angle it forced his slender neck into. The boy’s delicate features were covered in tears, snot, spit and blood from where he had bitten his lips. So beautiful.

“No one is coming for you. No one knows where you are. You made sure of that, didn't you Aki-kun?”

Fear flashed in those beautiful swollen blue eyes. Because the boy knew it was true.

Takeshi saw his in, and he played on the boy’s deepest fears, taunting him, “No one knows you even exist. There’s no way to find this place. Its hidden, below the ground where your precious Dragon can’t see. He’ll never find you. If he’s even looking. Which he’s not. Asami doesn’t love you Akihito. He was just using you.”

Pain and fear bloomed in Akihito’s eyes as Takeshi unveiled his greatest fear. Even so, he denied it, “That’s not true….”

Takeshi cooed, “Yes. Yes it is. Why else would he have lied to you? All those years. All he did was lie to you. Asami never loved you or he would have told you the truth.”

Akihito closed his eyes against the pain. But the idea was there now, burrowed deep in his heart like a splinter. Or perhaps it had always been there….

He whimpered in denial weakly, “No. No. No.”

Takeshi smiled indulgently, his hand moving to stroke the boy's trembling blond curls. He was going to break so, so beautifully.

-


	35. Flashback

The second wife needed to be punished Takeshi decided. 

She had been bad. Very bad. Keeping him from his Akihito. And Akihito was HIS. 

He was able to convince her that the burn was an accident. But as time went on and the bruises and injuries mounted, she had gotten very clever at keeping Akihito away from him. HIS playmate. 

Naughty, naughty, naughty.

Of course, she wasn’t his to punish. She belonged to Takaba-sama and Takeshi wasn’t big enough to hurt her. But he found ways of getting her into trouble. 

In the beginning there had been lots of maids, but Takaba-sama had sent them all away, ‘no reason for the bitch to get lazy’ he had said. So the second wife was responsible for all of the cooking and the cleaning. And if it wasn’t perfect, she would be punished when Takeshi’s father came home. And she had learned over time, to make things ‘just-so’ for Takaba-sama. 

Takeshi would sneak into the kitchen and turn up the heat on the oven so that dinner would burn. He would throw ink and gum in the laundry to ruin his father’s clothes. As soon as she was done cleaning one room, Takeshi would track mud all over it and break his father’s collectibles. He never left her enough time to fix it before his father got home.

And when he got home, Takeshi would be almost giddy with glee at the horror on her face. The utter terror. Oh, she tried to blame it on him of course. But Takaba-sama never believed her. Not once. 

And once the beating began, Takeshi knew that he had all evening to play with his baby brother. 

Akihito was a very good baby. He rarely cried, not even when Takeshi pinched him. It took a lot to make him cry. But Takeshi liked him that way. It wouldn’t have been nearly as fun to play with him if he broke right away.

His mother had been in the middle of giving him a bath when Takaba-sama had come for her. The soft pink baby was perched on a soft cushion in the middle of a tub filled with maybe an inch of water. She had been using a plastic cup to pour the water over him and rinse the suds off. He still had soap bubbles in his hair.

Takeshi smiled at him and he clapped his chubby hands, blowing little bubbles with his mouth. 

His brother reached over and turned on the water. The tub began to fill around the baby. Quickly covering his feet and legs. Akihito laughed when he kicked his feet and the water splashed up. His blue eyes were alive with joy and trust. He was always so trusting. It surprised and amused Takeshi, that Akihito never seemed to learn to expect the worst. Takeshi played gently with him for a little while. He was getting better at their games. It was more fun to gain the baby’s trust and it was more amusing to hurt him without warning. To come at him when he didn’t expect it. Cruelty and kindness. It was a potent mix, truly terrifying. Takeshi felt that his father didn’t show the second wife enough kindness. All he ever did was hurt her. So she was always afraid… and became numb to it. But Takeshi saw, that to truly terrorize someone, you had to mix the cruelty in with the kindness, so your playmate was always on their toes. So they never knew what to expect.

The water rose, higher and higher, until it covered Akihito’s stomach, his nipples and his neck. His brother didn’t turn the water off until it was right up to his chubby little neck. The baby shivered in the freezing cold water, his lips trembling and beginning to turn blue. Akihito whimpered but he didn’t cry. Such a good baby. Takeshi smiled at him and stroked his soft blond curls fondly before he pushed him backwards. 

A small gasp of air escaped his perfect rosy lips and rose to the surface of the water in one large bubble. Several smaller bubbles escaped and then all was quiet. Takeshi hummed to himself as the baby began to struggle under the water, thrashing weakly. His weak little hands were no match for the older boy. He didn’t keep him under long. Takeshi wasn’t stupid. He had no desire to kill Akihito. Akihito was his precious baby brother. He just wanted to scare him, show him how powerful he was.

Takeshi did it again and again, letting him come up just long enough to take a breath and then pushing him under until he began to pass out. Over and over again, in the cold water, until the baby was shivering and blue. Takeshi took his helpless body out and held him, loving how Akihito snuggled helplessly against him, seeking warmth.

“Pretty baby.” Takeshi hummed. 

He loved it when Akihito screamed. But there was something magical about his silence too. The way his mouth gaped open under the water as he gasped for the air Takeshi was denying him. The rush of power he felt holding him down was a heady feeling. This was a good game. They would play it, lots and lots. 

-


	36. Hydrophobia, Hemophobia

It was a new day. Takeshi contemplated as he watched Akihito sleep through the double sided glass. He was going to film their game again today. He wanted to document every beautiful second of Akihito’s journey, so that he could savor each moment, over and over if he wished. Perhaps someday he would even send a copy to Asami; one last momento of his precious Princess.

Takeshi’s thin lips curved into a snarling smile at the thought of Asami watching what Takeshi was going to do to Akihito. Oh. That would be beautiful. Poetic.

He activated the video surveillance system in Akihito’s room as he made the final arrangements for their play time together. The boy’s burns had been treated from the day before and he had been placed in his bed for the night. His crib. It was a small metal cage held up off the ground, with bars like a crib, longer than wide and far too narrow for him to slip through. It was a little bigger than the average toddler’s playcrib, but not by much. Akihito could not stretch out in it, he had to sleep on his side with his legs curled up like a baby. Takeshi’s pretty baby.

He had slept well as result of the Belladonna extract in the milk he had been forced to drink. That was all the boy would get from now on. Babies didn’t eat solid food, only milk. The sooner Akihito learned what he was, the better.

Takeshi watched as Yuri went inside the darkened room. He wore a medical mask and held white powder cupped in his palm. He slipped it between the bars and pressed it to the boy’s face, startling him awake. Akihito struggled for a moment but Yuri held him by the back of his neck, stoically forcing the power up his nose. After a few moments he inhaled it and Yuri released him.

He left the room, leaving behind the terrified boy. He was about to get a lot more frightened.

The powder was crushed psilocybin mushrooms. It was a perfect addition to the session they were going to have today. It not only slowed down time, it caused vivid hallucinations. As with all psychdelics, the experience, or "trip", was strongly dependent upon the setting. When people used hallucinogenic mushrooms, they had to be very careful about where they did it, taking it in a familiar, comforting environment with pleasant stimulation to ensure they had a ‘good’ trip. A bad trip meant hours of fear and terror and panic as one’s worst nightmares came to life around them and the brain went haywire, one’s own imagination turning on itself.

Takeshi smiled affectionately at the boy, already beginning to pant in his cell. Akihito had always had such a vivid imagination.

It was going to be a very good day.

Akihito stared at the wall across from him. It was... bleeding. He could see big red droplets of blood oozing and welling up, trickling down the wall. The room began to fill with blood. Thick red liquid pouring in now, coming down the walls and from under the door. Higher and higher it got. Akihito watched in terror, clinging to the bars of his cage, he was going to drown in it. Drown in the blood. He pressed himself back and up against the top of the cage as the blood rose around him, screaming as it covered his knees.

The door slammed open and Takeshi came in. He was intensely grateful to see him. The blood rushed out around around his wheelchair but he didn’t seem to see it. All that was left was blood coating the floor as the walls continued to ooze.

“Good morning Akihito. Guess what?”

Akihito whimpered in answer. His throat still too filled with terror to respond.

“Asami is here. Looks like, he found you after all.”

The boy’s fingers clung eagerly to the bars and he pressed his face against them, his entire countenance changing as joy and hope spread over his beautiful face.

“Daddy?” He cried hopefully. “Daddy?”

Takeshi came closer, his eyes entirely black. He frowned sternly at Akihito, “Your Daddy is very angry with you. Very, very angry. You shot him. You wounded him and instead of saying you were sorry, you ran away and hid from him. You were a very bad boy. You need to be punished. That’s why he came for you. Not because he loves you.”

Akihito’s blue eyes filled with terror and devastation, big tears welling out from his eyelashes. An enormous black shadow moved out from the doorway, a tall man with broad shoulders, dressed in a three piece suit and tie. His golden eyes glowed from behind a black mask.

Takeshi looked at his mute servant’s costume in satisfaction. The golden contacts were a nice touch. Even he could almost believe it was Asami behind the mask.

Akihito certainly did.

At the sight of him, the boy immediately turned into a mewling mess, sobbing and reaching out from his cage, “Daddy please! Please take me home, I’m so sorry. I’ll never be bad again. I’ll never run away again. I’ll be good for you. So good. Please Daddy, please!!”

Takeshi clucked his teeth and unlocked the cage. Akihito immediately fell out of it. He tried to stand to walk to Asami, but Takeshi pushed him back down with a strong hand. “You crawl Akihito. Good boys crawl for their Daddys. You crawl to him and ask him politely to forgive you. If you do a good job, maybe he’ll take you home with him.”

The boy nodded with his lips trembling. Akihito crawled across the floor, his burned and lacerated feet exposed. He reached the expensive loafers and knelt at his feet, looking up pleadingly. Akihito’s heart was racing out of his chest as he looked up at Asami. He was terrified but so relieved. Asami had come for him. He had come. He might be mad, but he wouldn’t leave him here with Takeshi. He wouldn’t leave him. He would take him home. Back to his penthouse, with his dresses and his naps and his paints and his snacks. Akihito would never leave again. He would be a good boy. He would never whine or complain or cry ever again. Not ever. Whatever Asami wanted, he would do, just so long as he didn’t leave him here alone, with Takeshi.

His was was soft and pleading and full of tears, “Please Daddy. I’m sorry I was so bad. I’m so sorry. Please take me home with you.” Akihito bowed low and kissed his expensive loafers formally before looking up trustingly. Asami always said if Akihito apologized and was truly sorry, he would be forgiven. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t be punished, but he would always be forgiven. Akihito could take any punishment, just so long as Asami didn’t leave him. He wanted to go home so badly.

Asami looked down at him impassively. His golden eyes were cold, so cold behind the black skin covering his face. Why was his skin black? Because he was a Dragon. His skin rippled and grew scales before Akihito’s terrified eyes.

A large hand backhanded the boy, smacking his tender cheek and knocking him onto the floor.

“Not on the face!” Takeshi hissed in annoyance.

Akihito lay there on the floor, stunned and shattered. Asami had never hit him before. Never.

He lay on the floor, clutching his throbbing cheek.

Asami then grabbed him by the arm and half drug the small boy over to an old rusted porcelain bathtub in the corner of the room. Akihito winced in his grip knowing it would leave bruises, but he didn’t protest, not even when the concrete scraped his tender knees. He bent him over the tub and Akihito stayed there, unconsciously presenting his bottom, still hoping to please him. Hoping to show Asami that he was still his good boy.

The tub filled with water and Akihito stayed still, clinging to the edge. Every now and then he could see Asami’s expensive black loafers out of the corner of his eye, immaculate and shining, as always. It comforted him. Angry as he was, this was still his Daddy. He just needed to take his punishment like a big boy and then Asami would forgive him. And take him home. And everything would be ok again. He had learned his lesson. He would never leave the penthouse ever, ever again. Never, never, never.

The older man filled the tub to the brim, stopped just inches short of Akihito’s nose and then attached a hose with a familiar nozzle on it to the faucet. Akihito drew a deep breath in, preparing himself for what he knew was coming. A punishment enema. They were horrible. But he had survived them before.

Akihito screamed when the nozzle was inserted into his tender, burnt little anus and then he apologized fearfullyfor his outburst, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Daddy.”

Asami said nothing. His large hand reached over and turned on the faucet. The tube filled with freezing cold water raced up the tube and into Akihito’s bowels. The cold water felt like fire on his burns. It was horrific. He screamed silently, his lips bulging to keep in the noise, not wishing to anger Asami further.

His lower intestine filled quickly with the rushing water, entering him far too fast to allow his bowels time to adjust. Once inside it had no where to go but deeper and deeper, pushing his flesh wider as his rectum was forced to accommodate the fluid. The cold sent him trembling, his knees juddering on the cold cement floor, his teeth chattering in his head. It was agonizingly painful. For more painful than he could ever remember any of Asami’s enemas being before. And it didn’t stop.

The boy’s eyes stared sightlessly forward, wide in panic and disbelief. His gut was full and Asami wasn’t stopping. He took panting breaths, trying desperately to cope with the pain and the cramps. The flow of water slowed but didn’t stop. The valve slipped, trying to escape from his ass and Asami shoved it back in mercilessly and held it there.

Akihito cried desperately, writhing on his knees. The hiss of water changed as the faucet began to struggle to pump anymore into him.

The boy felt sick. As if he might throw up. As if the water might force its way all the way through him and out his throat.

"That's enough." Takeshi said, realizing Akihito’s cries were turning from discomfort to outright pain. His belly was bloated almost to the damaging point. He looked nine months pregnant and was clearly in intense agony. Despite that, he was disappointed to see how well the boy took the enema. As if he had done it before. Asami must have done it to him. Takeshi frowned as one of favorite ways of torture failed to gain the appropriate reaction. But they weren’t done.

Akihito’s groin was swollen and his butt cheeks appeared puffed out as his insides struggled to stretch for the watery void. He was moaning as he rested his face on the side of the tub, keeping his ass high which seemed to relieve some of the discomfort. His belly was round and unnaturally distended. Takeshi knew he must be very uncomfortable. It was quite a volume of water he had taken inside. The nozzle was pulled from his anus and a small trickle of brownish water escaped before the boy was able to clamp back down.

Takeshi warned him, “Now, Akihito, since you have been so naughty, you must hold this during your punishment. You must hold it for as long as Asami wants you to, without spilling even one drop. If you do, you Daddy will be very disappointed in you. Very, very disappointed.”

The boy nodded, whimpering and panting in pain, shivering violently from the cold water filling his body. The cramps were starting. Takeshi grinned. “Good boy. Asami is going to begin now.”

The boy’s head jerked up as he realized all of a sudden that the enema wasn’t the whole punishment. With a startled scream, his face was pushed down into the bathtub, submerged in the water completely. Strong fingers held him down. At first the boy was limp and compliant, trying to be good, but as the moments passed and he began to run out of air, Akihito began to panic.

His little body strained against the older man’s much strong grip. His eyes were wide open in the water. Asami was holding his head underwater, holding him down so he couldn’t breathe. His lungs burned and it took everything he had not to lose the contents of his bowels as he grew more and more terrified. Finally he was allowed to come up, gasping for breath desperately. Barely as soon as he had gotten any air in his lungs, he was pushed back under. But it wasn’t water he was pushed into this time.

It was blood. His panicked, drug-addled brain saw blood. Blood everywhere. Asami’s blood. The blood he had shed when Akihito shot him. This was his punishment. Asami was going to drown him in it. He screamed in terror, forgetting for a moment that he was under water. It cost him. Precious air escaped from his mouth and rose to the surface, but there was none to replace it.

He thrashed with his head under the surface, his toes scrabbling on the tile. Blackness began to creep in from the edges of his vision and he was brought to the air for a second. He gasped and was forced under again. Again and again and again. Each time Asami kept him under the water, his strong fingers merciless on the back of his neck, twined in his long hair. The boy was helpless. His muscles grew weaker each time as he was exhausted and deprived of oxygen. Finally he went limp, his mind fading as his body gave up the fight, failing him, as Takeshi knew it would.

He lost control and voided his bowels all over Asami’s shining black loafers, soaking the hem of his expensive suit pants with filth. His sphincter coughed and spluttered the dirty fluid over the floor, and down his legs and calves, covering the floor beneath him.

Akihito began to scream in humiliated despair when he realized what he had done. He knelt in his own waste, clutching his head and his mind shattered. He could feel it fragment into a thousand pieces. He had failed. He had not only failed, he had disappointed Asami. His Daddy. His Daddy was going to be mad at him.

"Oh no Akihito. Such a bad boy. A dirty, nasty little boy." Takeshi taunted, as Akihito sobbed on the floor in horror, clutching helplessly at the hem of Asami’s pants.

The tall man turned around in disgust and began to walk away. Each footstep felt like a damnation. Akihito crawled after him, hysterical, “Please Daddy, please don’t leave me. Please. I can be good. I can be good, I’m sorrysorrrysorry.”

Golden eyes gleamed down at him as a filth covered black loafer kicked him in the stomach. Akihito gasped and rolled onto his back, clutching his abdomen in pain, the air forced from his lungs. His tearfilled blue eyes watched him go and he pleaded silently….beat me, hurt me, hit me, but please, please, please don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me.

Please don’t leave me.

As soon as those broad shoulders disappeared through the door, he began to sob, wailing, screaming incoherently. Asami had left him. He had left him. He didn’t want him. He didn’t love him.

Asami didn’t love him anymore.

Akihito screamed until his throat bulged, his fingers clutching at the concrete as he writhed out of control, slamming the back of his head against the floor, reaching for the door.

Takeshi watched his baby brother lose his mind, the potent psychedelics amplifying his pain. He listened to his screams with relish. He was glad he had taped this session. He knew he would cherish this video over and over again. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. Soon Akihito would learn that there was only one person he could trust. Only one person who loved him.

He wheeled himself close to the boy when he finally quieted. Beautiful blue eyes stared ahead, blank, empty and wide with shock and drugs. Glassy, like a doll’s eyes.

“Come here Otōto, its ok. Your big brother is still here. I’m here Akihito. I won’t leave you.”

His black eyes gleamed as the shivering little bundle on the floor moaned and curled up against his legs, unconsciously seeking heat and comfort from his tormentor. His precious baby brother.

-


	37. Flashback

There was a beautiful stand of pink dogwood trees that grew in back of the Takaba compound. 

They were lovely, delicate trees and when they bloomed in the spring, they looked like giant puffs of cotton candy. Akihito and his mother loved those trees. It was a small piece of heaven in their otherwise hellish existence. On nice days, when all of her chores were done and Takaba-sama was away, the second wife would take the baby outside and sit under them. It was the only time Takeshi saw her smile.

Akihito was crawling now, and he didn’t like to be carried anymore. He wanted to crawl everywhere. He was a wiggly, squirmy armful for his mother, but the grass was soft around the dogwood trees and the baby couldn’t get far. When he got tired of exploring, she would pluck a blossom from the tree and let him play with it, careful not to let him eat it. Akihito would play with the flowers, tossing them, pulling the petals, blowing them and tucking them into his mother’s hair. That patch of grass under the dogwoods was their special place, their little patch of paradise.

Naturally, Takeshi hated it. He hated those fucking trees. 

It would have been simple to burn them down. All it would take was a little gasoline and a match. He wouldn’t have even had to get his hands dirty, Takeo would have done it in a heartbeat. But then his Akihito would still have the happy memory of those trees and sunny days and playing with his mother. 

And that just wouldn’t do at all.

So one day when Akihito’s mother was away, Takeshi pushed the elderly babysitter down the stairs and took his baby brother outside to play. The tiny child stared wide-eyed at the old woman on the floor with the twisted neck but he had no concept of death and soon forgot about her once Takeshi took him in view of the dogwood trees. He clapped and smiled with glee at Takeshi. The baby was a little afraid of him. But Takeshi was kind to him far more often than he was cruel. It made their games more fun, because the little one never knew when to expect it. 

He laid the baby down on his stomach and pulled off his nappy and diaper, leaving him completely naked. Akihito’s bare bottom gleamed in the sunlight and he squirmed in the grass happily, giggling as it tickled his bare belly. Takeshi played with him for a bit, relishing his smiles and adorable coos. Akihito was starting to speak. He could say a few words; No and Ma-ma and Ba-ba for bottle. It irritated him that Akihito was saying his mother’s name before his. He was more important than she was so Takeshi wanted him to say his name. He got down on his stomach in the baby’s face. 

“Say Takeshi” he said.

Akihito just looked at him, his eyes turned into half moon and he grinned a little gummy smile.

Takeshi frowned and said his name again, “Takeshi”

He burbled and drooled but said nothing.

The older boy was starting to get angry, “Takeshi!” he yelled.

“Ma-ma!” Akihito yelled back impudently. Takeshi scowled at him and stood. He had been planning on doing this from the moment he took the baby outdoors, but now it was going to be worse for him. Akihito was just being stubborn. He would learn.

He took a small penknife from his pocket and cut a slender limb from the dogwood tree. He swished it in the air and it whistled as it cut the air. Pink blossoms fell on the ground around Akihito and the baby crawled for them, trying to catch the falling petals in his tiny hands. He grinned up at his big brother, hoping for more flowers to fall.

Takeshi brought the switch down across Akihito’s backside as hard as he could. It slashed across the baby’s naked buttocks, leaving a red stripe that almost immediately began to swell into a welt.

Akihito’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He looked like a cute little fish, gasping for breath. 

Takeshi brought the down on the defenseless baby again and again, laughing at him as he tried to crawl away. He put his foot on the back of Akihito’s tiny back and pressed him down into the grass. He could have crushed him so easily. Like a little bug. Takeshi wouldn’t of course, he just loved knowing that he could. Akihito was his precious baby brother, his perfect playmate. His. The fact that he was so little and helpless made Takeshi only love him more. He only rested his foot on his back to hold him still as he whipped that pretty round bottom until it was scarlet red. 

Akihito screamed until he was hoarse, crying and sobbing as the pretty pink flowers fell all around him, cascading down from the switch that Takeshi beat him with. 

From that day forward, until the day Takaba-sama cut them down, Akihito screamed at the sight of the dogwood trees. 

-


	38. Mastigophobia, Atychiphobia

Takeshi was furious.

All night long, Akihito had feverishly moaned his name, over and over and over again. Babbling and blathering and begging, but mostly he had just said his name. Over and over, like a prayer.

Not Takeshi’s name. 

HIS name. The name Takeshi hated more than any other. 

Asami. Asami fucking Ryuichi. 

Akihito had cried for him in his cage all night long, his lovely blue eyes fixed on the door hopefully as if he expected the older man to come for him, at any moment. To walk through the door and ‘save’ him. 

Apparently their bond was stronger than he thought it was. It was going to take far more to destroy it. 

He glared angrily through the double sided window and handed Yuri a little pill that looked just like candy. Ecstasy. Wonderful drug. Both a stimulant and a hallucinogen, it increased every sensation tenfold and would prevent Akihito from passing out. The boy was exhausted, they couldn’t have him falling asleep in the middle of their session. Takeshi had such a wonderful game planned for him today.

Yuri administered another small dose of the psilocybin mushrooms and then forced the little pill down his throat, using a syringe to flush it down. Akihito was already much more docile after his waterboarding the day before. He coughed and retched but the pill stayed down. The boy didn’t know it but the fluid he had just swallowed also contained a powerful diuretic.

Takeshi’s eyes gleamed as Yuri came back into the room and changed into another slick three piece suit, jet black and tailored perfectly to his muscular build. He tied his tie in a perfect windsor knot and tucked a coordinating silk handkerchief into his breast pocket. Golden contacts made his blue eyes glow amber and he combed his dyed hair back, slicking the midnight-black strands with oil just like Asami’s hair style. With his broad jaw and prominent cheekbones, from a distance, Yuri was easily mistakable for Asami. There would be no masks today. The ecstasy combined with the hallucinogen and Akihito’s fragile emotional state practically ensured that Akihito would see Asami’s face today. His real face. Takeshi smiled as he activated the video recording system. He wanted to savor every moment of their games today.

He rolled into the boy’s room, admiring the way Akihito’s look of hope faded into disappointment. One day it would be just the opposite. Soon.

“Good morning baby brother. I have good news for you.”

The boy was starting to twitch and shiver as the drugs hit his fragile system, his eyes moving erratically, unable to focus on any one spot. Takeshi wondered what lovely visions he was seeing on the walls behind him. 

“Your Daddy is back. He is going to give you a second chance. Isn’t that generous of him?”

Hope entered his dull blue eyes and he pressed himself against the bars, jittering on his knees and nodding eagerly. His pupils were blown wide.

Takeshi grinned sadistically, “Yes, he is willing to overlook the unpleasantries of yesterday and let you show him what a good boy you are. Then maybe he’ll take you home today.”

Akihito nodded, his entire body trembling and quaking from the drugs. Takeshi unlocked the door to his cage and Akihito crawled out. He pointed to the chair in the middle of the room, “Go sit down and wait for Daddy to come.”

He moved to stand and Takeshi chastised him, “Crawl, Akihito, good babies crawl.”

He looked down in embarrassment, but he did it, crawling across the floor and clambouring up into the seatless chair awkwardly in his eagerness. 

“Buckle your shoes.” Akihito reached down and obediently buckled the straps around his ankles.

“Seatbelt.” The boy reached across and pulled the strap across his waist tightly. Takeshi’s eyes gleamed and he came on either side and strapped Akihito’s wrists down to the armrests. It was a good chair, sturdy and old. It was a modified dental chair that instead of laying the patient down, tipped them forward, the seat had been cut out, leaving supports under the thighs and knees. At the press of a button, the supports widened, spreading the legs and exposing the buttocks. The straps held the patient in position, their privates displayed lewdly behind them. Akihito whimpered as the chair was activated and the wide strap cut into his stomach. He did not attempt to get free though.

It was lovely. Perfect. His desire to please and obey Asami was embedded into him so strongly. Takeshi almost wished he knew how Asami had done it. He had given Takeshi the perfect tool to break his little Princess.

The door opened and closed softly. Akihito’s pretty blond head twisted around, his blue eyes searching for his Daddy. The room was dark, Yuri moved in the shadows. He looked just like Asami. Even the way he moved imitated Asami’s confident strides. Takeshi’s eyes gleamed as Akihito’s eyes overflowed with joyful tears at the sight of him. He wiggled in his chair, turning as far as he could.

His pretty lips trembled hopefully, “Daddy! Daddy! Please Im going to be so good. Please take me home today, please? I’m sorry”

Akihito continued to plead pathetically as the tall man came to stand in front of him. He ignored him completely, turning his back on him. Takeshi could see the fear starting to leak onto Akihito’s lovely features as he perused the selection of implements on the wall, finally choosing a long supple whip.

The boy’s face went stark white when he saw what was in his hand. Takeshi grinned happily. Finally something Asami had not done to Akihito. He had obviously not been whipped before, at least, as far as he remembered. Hell, Takeshi doubted Asami had ever even spanked Akihito. The boy had always been terrified of physical punishment. As a child, it would send him into a panic.

Which is why this was so perfect. 

Akihito kept his eyes on Asami, pleading for him to turn his face towards him. Why wouldn’t he speak to him? Why? Did he hate him that much? Shadows glinted across his handsome face, blurring and moving like water. He could see his jaw clenched in anger. He kept to the dark, moving slowly around Akihito like a predator. He didn’t even look at him. Akihito’s heart was racing in his chest. Asami must still be mad at him. He was going to punish him again. He took a deep shaky breath, trying to fill his lungs. No matter how much it hurt, he was going to be good, he was going to take it and show Asami how sorry he was. Nothing could hurt as much as the pain Asami must have felt when Akihito shot him in the chest. He deserved this. Whatever Asami did to him, he deserved it. The boy’s head hung as he waited, his heart squeezing with sorrow and regret. 

The room was quiet. Akihito’s skin was crawling. It felt oversensitized, almost painfully so. He could feel every hair on his flesh. Every slightest brush of air. His heart beat loud in his ears. The walls were beating too. Thumping in and out with his own, as if he were sitting inside a great big heart, pumping and pulsing with blood. Suddenly it was all around him. Blood was oozing from the walls, coating his hands, falling from the ceiling like rain. He gasped staring down in terror until Takeshi spoke.

“Akihito, you are going to get a spanking. You have to take it like a good boy. If you do, Asami will take you home today.”

He nodded, but suddenly his bladder spasmed painfully. It was full, ready to burst. It had come on him all of a sudden, but it was urgent.

Akihito spoke softly, embarrassed but still polite, “May I please use the restroom first? I’ll come right back, I promise.”

Takeshi looked at him chastisingly. The walls behind him were bending in and out as if they were breathing. It was distracting. He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to focus. It felt like his mind was trying to wander in a thousand different directions at once.

He caught the last part of what Takeshi was saying, “- have to hold it. It would be rude to make Asami wait on you. He wants to get this over with as much as you do. Show him what a good boy you are and hold it for him. You want to make your Daddy proud don’t you?”

Akihito nodded in compliance. He could hold it. He could. It wasn’t so bad.

Takeshi purred, “Good. Now, let’s begin”

The boy had never been whipped before so he had no idea of what to expect. Which is why Akihito didn’t even scream with the first stroke. His mouth fell open and a garbled noise came out of it. But he didn’t scream. Yuri waited a moment to let him process the pain.

He had laid the crack of the whip right between the boy’s spread thighs, slicing it straight up his already tortured little split. The skin was still bright red from the burns inflicted on it two days prior. And with the ecstasy in his system, it had to feel a hundred times worse. His balls hung forward, out of the direct line of the whip and Yuri was careful to avoid those. Takeshi wanted him to remain intact, for now. He had special plans for those.

He slashed it up between the boy’s legs again, making sure to strike the flat of his taint and flick the tip into his delicate anus.

Akihito’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He looked like he was choking. The look on his face was of utter horror and shock. Takeshi was glad he had cameras filming the action from both the front and behind. He wouldn’t have wanted to miss a single second of this. It was utterly delightful. Made even better by the fact that Akihito believed, truly believed, that it was Asami inflicting such horrible pain on him.

Takeshi had to fight the urge to laugh. 

His split already looked like it was on fire and he had only received two lashes. Yuri cracked the whip again, delivering another burning, blistering lash directly onto his hole. This time Akihito bellowed like a wild animal, jerking convulsively, spittle flying from his lips, his nostrils flaring. Yes….. that was the reaction they had been waiting for. A cruel grin flashed between the two sadists and Yuri increased the pace.

He brought the cruel lash up underneath the seatless chair again to find his mark. His aim was impeccable and he didn’t waste time tormenting those full, resilient butt cheeks. He concentrated solely on the opening of Akihito’s body. Ruthlessly torturing the most tender part of any human being. He struck it over and over again. His aim was impeccable. The boy was going mad with pain. He began to sweat profusely, as if his entire body was crying. Even his beautiful blond hair was soon thoroughly soaked. He bit his lips until blood streamed down his chin, his fingers clawing the armrests.

He screamed with each vicious slice until his voice disappeared into hoarseness. Even still, the boy begged Asami, pleading for forgiveness. His insane babbling was like music to Takeshi’s ears.

“Please forgive me. I’m sorry, please I won’t ever do it again. Ever, ever, ever… please Asami, please Daddy. Please, I love you! Don’t whip me there. Please not there. Please let me close my legs. It hurts so bad. Please don’t whip me there anymore, please stop Daddy. Please stop. I’m sorry, I’m so- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIREEEEEEEEEEEEEEGGGGHHH!!!”

Bulging biceps flexed as Yuri delivered the killing stroke, striking him as hard as he could in his gaping gash, tearing the whip right across his delicate perineum and anus.

Akihito screamed, throwing his head back in unbearable torment and he lost control of his bladder. His deafening cries echoed on the walls and piss spurted from his limp cock like an ejaculation. Takeshi was frankly surprised that the boy had held it as long as he had. His drive to regain Asami’s love was incredibly strong. It would probably take a few more sessions to purge that from him completely. 

He waited until the boy’s hysterical panting slowed a bit and then he clucked his teeth sternly, “Oh Akihito. How unfortunate. And Asami was almost done with your punishment. He’s so disappointed in you. You said you could hold it and you didn’t. Look at the mess you made! We are very, very disappointed in you.”

The boy began to cry, great rivulets of tears flowing down his poor tormented little face. Takeshi moved around so he could see a full view of Akihito’s tortured crease. He immediately developed an erection as he examined the naked boy’s brutalized gash. It was fiery red, his tightly puckered opening swollen and inflamed. The skin between his legs was streaked with shallow lacerations that extended all the way up his crack to the top of his pretty bottom. The tortured blood red skin was all the more stark in contrast to the perfect white swell of his plump asscheeks. They trembled and swayed enticingly as Akihito cried silently, his thin body heaving in silent sobs. He was no longer begging. He seemed to have finally realized it was pointless. Or perhaps he could simply no longer speak. Regardless, it was gorgeous.

He said nothing when the whip was dropped on the floor and nothing as the sound of a zipper whirred from behind him. He jerked in surprise as hot piss splashed on his back, running down his ass, but still said nothing. Akihito only whimpered as his beloved Daddy degraded him. Showing him how low he thought he was by using his body as a toilet, spraying his open cuts with urine. It had to sting like hell, but the boy didn’t even make a sound. 

It was as if he was asleep, in shock. 

He only seemed to wake once the man behind him zipped up his pants and began to walk from the room, his footsteps echoing loud in the silence.

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he tried to speak. His words came out slurred, “Asmi plese. Plese don leave me. Pleese. Plese Daddy. Pleaasee.”

The door slammed shut in answer and Akihito screamed in despair, howling in the same agony as he had when he was being whipped. His Daddy had abandoned him again. He had failed him, again. Takeshi leaned him back and gently untied his wrists, gently guiding him into undoing his own ankles and waist. The boy leaned forward, clinging to Takeshi’s neck as he sobbed desolately, his heart broken. The shattered pieces left for Takeshi to pick up. 

It was beautiful. So beautiful.

-


	39. Flashback

Akihito smiled as he played with his new puppy. It wasn’t a real puppy of course. His mother said that wasn’t possible, but she had gotten him a beautiful stuffed plushie. The puppy was snow white with big blue eyes and a pink tongue that flopped out of his mouth. His fur was so soft. Akihito petted him gently, like he would if he had a real puppy and then walked him across the floor, barking for him. “Woof Woof Woof!” The little boy cried happily and then played pretend fetch with his puppy and a little red ball.

His brother was watching him from the shadows of the doorway. His eyes glowed with anger, his lips pressed together so tightly they turned white. Takeshi’s fists shook with his fury. He wanted to rip that little stuffed dog to pieces. He wanted to tear it apart in front of Akihito’s face and teach him, teach him that he wasn’t allowed to play with anyone or anything besides him. Akihito was his playmate. HIS. 

His chin quivered in jealous fury. 

But taking away Akihito’s toy wasn’t enough. 

Akihito needed to learn a lesson; Takeshi didn’t just want to take away his toy, he wanted Akihito to stop wanting it entirely.

The angry boy walked around the compound as he thought about how to solve his problem. Takeo was outside, feeding the dogs.

He watched as Takeo tied a lovely little pig in the center of a large barbed wire pen. It was a beautiful little animal, skin so pale and soft. He sweetly nosed at Takeo’s hand looking for affection. Takeo ignored it and walked over to the far end of the pen. The piglet trotted after him expectantly, his little pink tail wagging like a happy puppy. He was so cute and adorable. Utterly helpless. The baby animal didn’t even see it coming.

The first dog out of the gate sank his fangs into that fine white flesh, tossing it high in the air. The piglet screamed and the familiar sound whipped the rest of the pack into a frenzy. It sounded just like a child screaming. The tiny animal disappeared under a pile of snapping jaws and razor sharp teeth. I was ripped apart, limb from limb, literally shredded by the ravenous dogs. They were kept hungry, half starved on purpose so that they would not hesitate. They were fed live animals to keep them accustomed to eating screaming, writhing flesh. Takaba-sama loved to feed his enemies to the dogs, letting them chew on their bones, degrading them even as they died screaming.

Takeshi’s eyes watched the dogs as they gnawed on the piglet’s bones, their filthy jaws and yellow jagged teeth dripping with blood. His eyes glowed with his idea. It was going to be beautiful.

That evening, after their father was home and Akihito’s mother was ‘busy’, it wasn’t hard to convince Akihito to come outside to see the ‘puppies’. The boy had seen some cartoon with a talking puppy and he wanted to see a real live puppy so badly. He was so gullible.

Between the two of them, it wasn’t hard to strip him and force the little boy into a small dog cage. He cried and screamed but neither of his brothers cared. They carried the cage into the dog pit and left it in the center.

His naked pink skin shone in the dark, just like a little pig. And his screams sounded just like a piglet’s too. It drove the dogs wild that they couldn’t get at his flesh. They lunged over and over again at the cage, viciously snapped and biting at the bars, trying to get their teeth in the terrified baby trapped inside. 

It went on and on, the dog’s only becoming more frenzied the longer it went on. They ran at the cage, knocking it around the pen, clawing at it with their sharp nails, shoving their snouts between the bars and snapping inches from Akihito with jagged fangs. The boy screamed and screamed and screamed, utterly terrorized by the rabid animals attacking him.

Without blood to keep him entertained, Takeo soon lost interest in the game but Takeshi watched for hours, grinning and laughing the whole time.

Akihito never played with the stuffed dog again.

-


	40. Cynophobia, Autophobia

Takeshi was furious when he realized that they wouldn’t be able to play with Akihito for a few days. Internally he was fine, but Yuri had gone a bit overboard with the whip and the boy’s anus was out of commision, unless Takeshi wanted to cause permanent scarring or get his wounds infected… which he didn’t. That had been fine for his other lambs, but not Akihito. He wanted the boy’s beauty preserved for as long as possible.

So he left him alone. Cold and naked, trapped in a cage too small for him to even lie down. For days.

The only thing the boy had to drink was a bowl of water in his cage. He slept on a thin mat with only the barest, threadbare blanket for covering. Takeshi would have given him more but he was angry. Furious.

Even after everything Takeshi had done for him, to help him break his unnatural fixation on Asami, the boy’s obsession STILL persisted. Day and night, he called for his ‘Daddy’. Sometimes only quietly, whimpering and talking to himself. Other times he was loud, crying and screaming, his little fingers worming between the bars, clenching and unclenching as he reached for the door, calling Asami’s name over and over and over. For hours.

Takeshi was so angry. Ungrateful little wretch. After everything he had done for him. His fury kept him away longer than he intended. But he needed time to plan.

Akihito needed to be punished. Punished for wanting to play with someone other than Takeshi. Akihito was his now, but apparently, Akihito still didn’t understand that. Apparently, torturing him wasn’t enough. Apparently, Akihito need more than pain to break this infatuation with Asami. He needed humiliation. He needed to know that Asami had not only stopped loving him, that not only did he hate him…. that Asami was disgusted by the very sight of him.

And even more importantly, Akihito need to be disgusted... by the sight of himself.

Takeshi rolled into the playroom whistling. Akihito looked at him dully and he relished how very little hope was left in his eyes.

He forced the smile from his lips, reminding himself, he was the actor now. He had to get his role just right or the masterpiece wouldn’t come out right. Unconsciously, his eyes flicked to the cameras filming from both sides of the room. Cold lenses stared back.

He came to a rest just outside of Akihito’s cage and looked at him sympathetically. His voice was soft and soothing, “How are you Aki-kun?”

His lips were cracked and a cry tongue flicked over them. His voice sounded like sand, “Th-ir-sty”

Each syllable took effort to push out of his parched throat. Takeshi frowned. His waterbowl was empty. Yuri was supposed to fill it up every night. Perhaps he had been neglectful? Or perhaps Takeshi has miscalculated his minimum water requirements? He kept him dehydrated on purpose. Just enough water to keep him from dying. He knew it would keep him weak, docile and confused. Disoriented.

And it was amazing what someone dying of thirst would do for a drink of water.

Thanks to the enema given to Akihito the day before and the starvation, he had not had a bowel movement, but the stench of the urine was revolting. It had turned dark and yellow and was congealed on the floor under the cage, around the drain. It stank to high heaven. And so did the boy.

He desperately needed a bath. Takeshi smiled at him sorrowfully, “Oh baby brother, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you like a big brother should. Asami was so angry. He wouldn’t even let me come and see you.”

At the mention of Asami’s name, the boy perked up, losing some of the dull flat expression. Even though it had been his goal, that irritated Takeshi, immensely.

He reached over and angrily turned on the shower nozzle mounted just above the cage.

The boy cried out in shock and pain as freezing cold water met his delicate skin. Despite the cold though, he raised his face to it, opening his mouth as wide as it would go, lapping hungrily at the droplets as they fell, licking them off the bars of his cages like the finest wine. He was blubbering gratefully as his thirst was assuaged. Takeshi let him drink, the cold water running over him until his long blond hair was soaked and hung about him in clumps. By the time, he turned it off, the boy’s lips were blue and he was shivering almost violently.

He unlocked the cage and let the boy crawl out. He didn’t even try to stand. Takeshi’s eyes gleamed. The boy was too weak to try, but there was also the fact that he hadn’t been able to straighten his legs for nearly a week. Over time, the tight confinement and lack of use would cause his calf muscles to weaken and shorten. Soon, Akihito wouldn’t have a choice between walking and crawling, hobbled permanently. He was so pretty on his knees, lower than Takeshi, that he wanted to keep him there, forever.

He crouched at Takeshi’s feet huddled against the warmth and Takeshi draped a fluffy towel over his shoulders. Akihito’s pretty blue eyes filled with gratitude and he dried himself as best he could. Just the act of raising his arms over his head got him panting and out of breath. Akihito could barely move. That was no good, that just wouldn’t do. They were going to play today. Takeshi had big plans for him. He had made all the arrangements, gone over and above his usual. Akihito was sure to appreciate the extra effort he had put in for him. But then, he had to be awake to see Takeshi’s labor of love.

He gently handed him a bottle, milk and protein and all the nutrients a growing boy needed. Akihito snatched it almost rudely and began to drink greedily. Creamy white droplets ran down his chin, trickling onto his bare chest. Takeshi couldn’t help thinking how lovely it looked on him…. Alas, too soon for such pleasures.

When he finished, his throat working frantically to pull every last drop, Takeshi opened his palm to reveal a chocolate. The flesh of his hand was so cold, it had not even begun to melt.

Akihito’s eyes went wide in eagerness and a burst of affection bloomed in Takeshi’s chest. Precious boy, he had always loved sweets. Sweets for the sweet.

He held it to him, allowing Akihito to take it from his loving hand. Encouraging him when he hesitated as if the boy could hardly believe it was for him, “Yes, Akihito, for you. From Asami.”

His pretty blue eyes filled with tears and he clutched the chocolate tightly, cupping it in his hands and holding it to his breast tenderly. His lips trembled with strong emotion.

Jealous rage filled Takeshi’s body. Despite the fact that Asami was no more than a tool he was using to break Akihito, the still strong affection… love…. that Akihito displayed whenever he was mentioned was infuriating. Akihito loved Asami. That was the only possible reason he didn’t scream at the very mention of his name at this point.

But he would. He would.

“Eat your candy Akihito. Daddy wanted you to have it.”

The boy put it to his lips, his perfect rosy little lips and took it inside, chewing it with his eyes closed, savoring the taste of what he thought was his Daddy’s love for him. Sweet and rich with just a hint of bitter.

He didn’t taste the strong aphrodisiacs the candy was laced with, or the hint of LSD. That would wake him right up.

The fatty cocoa that encapsulated them as they slid down his throat would give Takeshi enough time to finish setting up the game before they took effect.

“Asami wants you to perform for him tonight. He’s decided not to punish you anymore. He just wants to see you, looking like your beautiful self. Classy, elegant and refined. His precious Princess.”

Akihito nodded eagerly, his finger clutching at the silk fabric Takeshi handed him, he moved to pull it over his head but Takeshi stopped him, “Makeup first.”

It was obvious Akihito had no experience putting on cosmetics. And Takeshi was certain the poor lighting didn’t help, nor did the tiny mirror he was given. But the boy was obviously doing the very best he could, applying the dark eyeliner unevenly, smudging the blue eyeshadow on his lids, applying the blush asymmetrically, overpowdering his face and then coating his lips in waxy rouge. Takeshi’s lip curled unconsciously in disgust. The boy was so beautiful, it was almost a shame to see it covered and obscured in such a lurid, whorish way. But then it was all part of his design.

The boy put the dress, careful not to smudge his face and then looked up at Takeshi expectantly. Takeshi sprayed him with perfume, dousing him with a thick musky scent. “From Asami” he explained and the boy nodded, holding out his bare wrists for Takeshi to apply more. Takeshi smiled and spritzed both hands.

“Come, lets go put on a show, shall we?”

He tried to stand but Takeshi shook his head, so the boy pulled his dress up and followed him to the adjacent room on his knees. It was the kennel, Akihito may have heard the dogs barking from time to time, although not likely, as the rooms were all very well soundproofed. It was much larger than the playroom, to give the dogs adequate room to run around. He and Yuri had given it a makeover over the past few days. It now resembled club Sion, with a stage and a viewing area. They had come out onto the stage, it wasn’t empty. In the center, was a breeding stand.

Akihito didn’t know that of course. He didn’t know what it was.

Takeshi smiled at him, “This is for you to rest on, to help you sing.”

The boy shook his head, shying back, his forehead glistened in the stage lights. It wasn’t hot. The aphrodisiacs were starting to kick in. He was starting to get hot. How perfect.

He trembled on his knees, “I- I don’t feel so good. I might be getting a fever. I don’t know if-”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…. you won’t get another chance Akihito” Takeshi whispered, jerking his head towards the darkened area in front of the stage. That was when the boy noticed they had an audience. A tall figure with broad shoulders sat in the shadows, a single lit cigarette in his fingers. Smoke curled from his mouth. Even in the dark, his amber eyes glowed. He beckoned with his fingers, indicated that Akihito was to get on the stand. The boy complied allowed Takeshi to nudge in him in place. He didn’t fight the waist restraint but the moment he realized that his head would also be tied, that he would be fastened around the neck, he began to struggle.

He was not match for Takeshi. On any other day, yes. But not after being beaten and drugged and starved and dehydrated. No, not after all of that. Takeshi held his still damp hair clenched in his fist and snapped the stock closed around his neck. His blue eyes stared up in terrified confusion. He didn’t understand. He would.

Breeding stands were made to hold bitches in place while they were mounted by a stud. Their necks were collared and fastened tightly. If they moved or thrashed to much, they would choke themselves. Their waist and hips were also fastened, a lever allowed the bitch’s haunches to be raised up for easier, smoother penetration for the male. This stand was made specifically for Akihito. He was held on his knees, his buttocks raised high and presented. There were struts protruding from the supports so the boy could not close his legs. He had to keep them wide apart. Takeshi did not bother to fasten his hands.

Akihito scrabbled at the metal fastened around his throat, keeping his head up, his spine straight and long. He couldn’t undo it. Once the stocks were closed, they could not be opened without a key.

He was finally starting to understand, but still the boy reached, hoping, “Takeshi, I can’t, I can’t sing like this!”

Takeshi petted his damp blond hair indulgently, laying the tendrils over his dainty shoulder, so that they would not block the view and then flipped his pretty pink skirt up, baring his bottom and thighs to the room. His side was to the audience. Takeshi came around and then sprayed the perfume on his buttocks and legs, nudging the nozzle between his cleft and spraying the oil directly into his hole. He squeezed again and again until the slick filled his anus and poured out of his cleft. Just like a bitch in heat. The oil was infused with dog estrus. Akihito smelled as if he was ready to be mated.

He moved to the end of the stage Akihito was facing and pushed a button, raising a blood red curtain that covered a full length mirror and opening the gate that was closed at the other end.  
The boy’s eyes flew wide. His pupils constricted as his body begged him to run. RUN. RUN. RUN.

But he couldn’t.

He had to stay, perfectly positioned and watch them come in the mirror. The Dobermans were enormous monsters of dogs. Thoroughbreds. Midnight black with bulging, writhing muscles. They were very tall, very large animals.

Just like the ones they had when Akihito was a child.

And this time, he wasn’t in a cage. Takeshi grinned.

Akihito began to scream.

He screamed like a singer, performing on stage.

In the beginning, they were high and shrieking. His diaphragm contracted, squeezing his lungs and a large volume of air was pushed out, vibrating his vocal cords at a high frequency, hitting the top of his throat. The screams started at a high pitch. But as he ran out of air and the dogs began to nose his hole, his mouth opened and his tongue fell down, and his screams took on a throatier quality. It was lovely.

Akihito was losing his mind. He was afraid of dogs. Terrified. Asami knew this. He knew how scared they made him. It didn’t matter how small or how large, all he could see were their teeth. Each one sharp and pointy, protruding from their tough, rubbery gums. Fangs perfectly engineered for tearing flesh, just like their mouths. Their lips were cut back into their cheeks like a Chelsea smile, so that their jaws could open wide wide wide, to enclose and lock onto the limbs of their struggling prey. It didn’t matter how domesticated they were, their mouths were still all the same. Still made to be carnivores. Wolves. Flesheaters.

His terrified mind shattered as they approached, their fangs bared, long tongues unfurled. their eyes were so black they were indistinguishable from their fur. It looked as if they had no eyes at all. Just mouth, giant mouths, dripping with blood.

They had just been fed.

They weren’t hungry. Not for food anyway.

The dog’s had gotten a scent of the estrus that covered Akihito’s exposed flanks. They had also been injected with a cocktail of hormones to keep them aroused and erect. For hours. Akihito didn’t know this. But he could see their rapidly enlarging pricks. And soon came to the horrifying realization of what that meant for him.

One was probing his ass with a cold wet nose, the others were sniffing him. He flailed in his bond, desperately trying to keep them away but with four of them, they seemed to be all over him. They began to nip at his back as they tried to mount him and he felt their paws scrape his skin. The dress offered little protection.

He whimpered in fear as the dogs circled him. His body felt like it was shaking itself to pieces. Coming apart at the seams. Like his very bones were ready to turn to dust. Smoke rose from the shadows as the Dragon breathed. Asami was watching him, watching this. This... was his performance.

Akihito moaned as one of the dogs mounted him, wrapping his paws around Akihito’s waist, shredding his dress with his claws, “Please. Please Daddy. Please… please save me. Please...”

He rutted into the boy’s crotch area for a few misguided strokes until he found the slicked up opening to his body and plunged in brutally. There was no finesse or preparation or mercy. A stud cares very little for a bitches comfort. Thus the need for breeding stands, so that she can’t get away, no matter how much it hurts.

Akihito screamed in agony. His hole was tender and still swollen from his burns and beating. Even though the dog’s cock was nowhere near as large as Asami’s, it felt huge, stretching his tender walls beyond belief. The dog pumped wildly, propelling the boy back and forth in the breeding stand, humping his ass furiously. The animal had one goal and one goal only, to fuck that hole until he ejaculated his seed into it. The blood coating his cock was just… more lubrication. Akihito knew there was nothing he could do, but take it. Claws scratched his belly where they were locked around him. He was in agony.

He could feel the dog’s drool landing on his back. The hot breath of the others as they circled, waiting for their turn at the bitch.

His skin felt like it was on fire, too tight, too hot. Sweat was pouring down his back, pooling in the hollow above his plump quivering cheeks. He could feel a hard bulge growing on the dog’s cock, growing, deep inside him. Like a rock and it was getting bigger, tugging on his tender insides, distorting his rectum until it began to hurt. But as it churned inside his guts, Akihito began to feel something very different.

His eyes flew wide in horror as he realized he was erect.

Akihito’s blue eyes meet in his reflection as he stared at himself in horror, getting fucked by a dog, aroused. The knot churned inside him, splitting his ass apart, battering his prostate mercilessly. Clear fluid began to leak from Akihito’s cock, a little string swaying back and forth as he was fucked like a bitch.

“Come now Akihito, don’t fight it. This is why Asami brought you here, this is what he wants to see. You, getting fucked by a dog…. and liking it.”

The boy could feel the dog pushing deeper into him, pounding harder and faster. The vicious rape felt like it was going on forever. His mind was screaming, but his body…. his dick was on fire, throbbing between his legs painfully, his balls tucked up close. He needed to come. He needed to come.

He began to cry from the shame. He was getting fucked by a dog. It was sick and disgusting and he hated it but his body was betraying him. The boy had not idea of the potent aphrodisiacs coursing in his veins, forcing physical arousal upon him, even despite his mental anguish.

His tears flowed freely as the animal pounded into him, he felt the knot grow and thought something inside him tore as he screamed and ejaculated on the floor in front of him.

Bleary eyes watched Asami’s hands come together in a slow clap.

He could feel the dog shooting jets of come inside him and his humiliation burned in his stomach with each ejacualtion, his body filled with the sperm, of a dog. He hoped, the animal would finally get off of him. But the dog did not move. His penis stayed locked inside Akihito and then animal rested on top of him.

Tears rolled down Akihito’s cheeks as Asami continued to clap.

Takeshi moved silently up the ramp, coming to rested beside him. He petted the top of Akihito’s head. “Do you know, what our father’s pet name for your mother was?”

The boy did not answer, his head limp in the stocks. Takeshi grabbed his hair and forced his gaze to the mirror.

“He liked to call her Salope”

Akihito had never heard that word before.

Takeshi leaned down, “Its French, depending on the connotation it can mean either bitch or slut. I think perhaps, it was a very appropriate name for her. And for you as well. Its obvious her blood runs in your veins. She used to so enjoy getting mounted by Takaba-sama’s prize studs. She would cry and cry, just like you. I never saw her cum though. You are quite the little whore aren’t you? For who else but a bitch-slut, could cum, while getting fucked….. by a dog? And while your Daddy watched. And look at you! Akihito, you’re still hard.”

The boy squeezed his eyes shut in humiliated despair, refusing to look at himself in mirror.

Takeshi’s mouth twitched in anger, at Akihito’s obvious lack of appreciation of the picture he had painted for him.

“LOOK AT YOURSELF!”

He ripped a clump of the boy’s hair out as he forgot himself in a moment of anger. The boy screamed in pain. Blood began to trickle behind his ear, but he opened his eyes.

Takeshi clutched his chin and stroked him as he stared at his reflection, “What do you see Akihito?”

His face looked like a garish, whorish mask. He had red lips, bright pink cheeks and his body was flushed. His cock was straining between his legs, even as another dog mounted him from behind, lubricated by the last dog’s ejaculate, he slipped inside without much difficult, reopening the path the last dog had dug.

The animal violated him with fresh eagerness, lodging his entire shaft inside in one hard push, splattering Akihito’s thighs with fresh blood. The dog quickly began to rape him in earnest, his small body made to bear it without respite.

Akihito watched in the mirror, Takeshi’s hand cupped under his chin, the electricity prickling in his skin from where those fingers touched him. He looked back at the monster doing it to him and the dog seemed even bigger. Every time the dog thrust into him, his entire body moved as if he were rutting back against it. His legs were spread wide beneath the animal, and for a moment he wasn't certain which was worse: the terrible pain he was in or the humiliation of being fucked like a bitch in heat. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he watched his own rape.

The spark of fire in his groin began to smoke as it was rubbed by his hard fucking. The small tingle built quickly. The aphrodisiacs forced his arousal, it could not help coming alive no matter the source of the attention. He felt a swelling at his opening, traveling up the organ inside him as it forced him further open, the large knot pressing viciously against his prostate. He was both horrified and repulsed by his body’s response to it. He clenched involuntarily, making both the pain and stimulation even worse. He realized with fresh terror that he was going to cum again and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The dog rutted against him, his eyes were dilated in the mirror, his red lips gaping open like a cunt as he moaned and screamed with a dog’s knot rubbing his prostate. He looked…. like a whore. That was what Akihito saw in the mirror. A whore. A cunt. A bitch.

Akihito grunted, cum coiling in his gut, sperm flowing from his gonads and he spurted again, his entire body spasming as he came, adding thick streaks to the spend on the floor between his legs.

Asami came up in front of them, blocking Akihito’s view of the mirror with his pressed suit pants and shining loafers. The boy rolled his eyes back in his head trying to see beyond his tears but he couldn't look up far enough to see his face. Asami rested his cigarette hand on Akihito’s head. With a few pumps of his cock, he ejaculated into Akihito’s stunned visage, smearing it over his face and into his open mouth.

He took a long drag of his Dunhill and then forced Akihito’s mouth open further with his thumb.

He flicked the hot embers onto his tongue, using Akihito’s mouth as as ashtray.

And then he walked away.

Every click of his shoes on the stage sounded like a judgement, a drum roll, a death knell…. ringing in his head. His entire world narrowed to those fading footsteps.

All too soon, they were gone.

Takeshi spoke quietly, “You are not Daddy’s perfect little Princess anymore Akihito. He doesn’t want you because he knows now; you’re not a real Princess. You’re just a Salope. That’s all you ever were…. My Salope. ”

Akihito’s head fell, hanging in shame and degradation and despair. To Takeshi's immense satisfaction, the boy did not pick it up again.

He was left there, for hours, cold and trembling. The dogs mounted him, again and again and again, as he cried in pain and degradation, with cum dried like a mask on his face and the taste of ash in his mouth.

-


	41. Flashback

Akihito played quietly in the darkest corner of the library. He was careful not to make even a peep of sound, so as not to attract attention. He hoped no one would find him. But as a dark silhouette moved to stand in the doorway, he knew he had been found. Akihito stared wide-eyed at his older brother. The tiny boy tried to shrink down into himself, clasping his hands around his knees. He wished with all of his little heart that he could simply disappear and be invisible. If they couldn’t see him, they couldn’t hurt him. He crouched down and tried to hide behind a chair, holding perfectly still like a small animal cornered by a cat, hoping maybe…. just maybe, he would leave him alone today.

It didn’t work. Those coal black eyes sought him out immediately.

“Hello Otōto .”

Akihito plunged his thumb in his mouth and began sucking it nervously, “Hewo Takesee”

The older boy moved to crouch in front of him, removing his thumb from his mouth. He held that tiny hand in his and Akihito held his breath, not knowing what was about to happen. He never knew with Takeshi. Sometimes he was as nice as he could be. And then sometimes, he turned on him without warning. The baby waited in breathless anticipation, like a mouse trembling in a trap.

Takeshi smiled, stroked the soft skin of his tiny dimpled hand and then led him back into his nursery.

“This is where you should be playing Akihito.”

He nodded in agreement. He always did when Takeshi spoke. He knew better than to disobey him. 

“It’s quite a mess Akihito. I think you should clean it up.”

There were only a few things on the floor but the boy immediately padded in to pick them up, putting everything where it belonged. He obediently opened the toy box and put one of the toys away, eager to please Takeshi. He moved to close the lid but was stopped with a stern warning, “There’s still one more toy.”

He looked around. The room was empty, the floor was clean. Akihito didn’t have many toys. And they were all in the toybox. He ran around, peeking under the chairs and the bed, making sure there was nothing he had missed. He couldn’t find anything.

Takeshi’s black eyes frowned down at him and the baby began to tremble, his knees shaking. He had done something wrong. He didn’t know what it was, but now he was going to be punished. He hooked a finger at him and Akihito moved to stand humbly in front of his older brother. He knew better than to try and run away.

“What have I told you Akihito? Aren’t you just a toy too?”

The boy inhaled sharply, yes, Takeshi had said that. Many times, that Akihito was his toy. He nodded, tears prickling his eyes.

“And where do toys belong?”

The pretty child stammered in fear, “I-in T-the toy-box?”

“That’s right Akihito.”

The little boy stood still in front of the toybox, not sure of what he was supposed to do.

“Don’t make me put you in.”

He rubbed his arm where Takeshi had twisted it the other day. It was still bruised and so, so sore. If Takeshi did it, he would make it hurt a lot. He pushed his toys to the side to make room and then climbed into the box. There wasn’t enough room for him to lay down, not with the other toys. He had to sit with his knees curled up, squeezed into the corner.

His blue eyes looked up, pleading. He didn’t want to be shut in the box. It would be dark and scary and he would be all alone.

Takeshi smiled sadistically and slammed the lid down, bruising the top of his head. He yelped in pain and then noticed how dark it was. There was some light coming through one of the toy box handles. He twisted around to peer out the hole. He was scared. His head hurt and his knees hurt. 

“Takeshi?” 

He didn’t know if he was there or not. Akihito waited for a long time, until he was sure he was all alone and then he pushed up the lid. Takeshi’s burning black eyes met his and he cried out in fear and dropped the lid.

“Toys STAY in the toybox Akihito. What did I tell you? I was going to leave the toybox unlocked but it looks like I can’t trust you can I?”

Akihito was hyperventilating in the box. It was hard to breath so he put his nose near the hole. He really didn’t want to be locked in.

“You can trust me Takeshi! I’ll stay in but please dont lock it, please!”

“Too late for that Akihito”

With a click, he heard the trunk lock closed. It wouldn’t matter how hard he pushed now. When the toybox was locked, he couldn’t open it. And now he was inside it. The baby began to cry, wailing in fear and pain. The top of his bruised little head was starting to throb terribly.

Takeshi left, laughing and swinging the key to the trunk around his finger. Akihito’s new nursemaid rushed to the nursery as soon as she heard Akihito’s cries but stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw Takeshi.

He sneered at her fright, “You open that box, I’ll make sure my father buries the body where no one will ever find you.”

No one doubted him. Not after what he had done to Akihito’s old nanny. The servants were all terrified of Takeshi. Horrible things happened to those who crossed him, most especially anyone who interrupted his sadistic games with his baby brother. The baby’s cries pierced her heart and she longed to go to the child and help him. But she was too afraid. And so she left Akihito in the box.

Servants passed by the room all day long, but no one helped him, no matter how long or how hard he screamed.

He was all alone in the dark.

-


	42. Claustrophobia, Nyctophobia

Takeshi slept well that night.

And so did Akihito. He slept well that night, and the next day, and the next night. Takeshi decided he needed his rest and so he gave it to him, with a slow drip of propofol into his veins.

He also wanted Akihito to wake up in his box. Every one of his doll’s had had a box. 

Takeshi had many many mistakes over the years. Bedsores, suffocations, infections… but he learned from each one. The box was very important and it had to be perfect. Akihito’s box was perfect.

Yuri laid the boy inside it carefully. He had been bathed and prepped. His golden hair brushed and plaited. He lay on the white silk of the coffin. He looked like Snow White, ready for her kiss. His injuries were almost completely healed. The scar on his heel was coming along beautifully, red but soft. Yuri smoothed cocoa butter on it again before he placed the catheter and the rectal tube. The boy would be fed through a funnel that went through the top of the casket, with a nipple Akihito could suck on when he was thirsty.

In every other way, it almost seemed as if he were being prepped for burial. But this was not a burial. This was a rebirth. Takeshi was returning him to the womb, so that he could be born again. He was ready to begin his new life. Takeshi had cut out his cancer; Akihito’s obsessive love for his ‘Daddy’. He had left his heart and his mind and his soul empty. 

He would soon be ready to fill. But first, the shell needed to bake a bit longer.

That was why the doll box was so important. It helped the mind to dissociate from the body. 

The coffin Akihito was lying in had been custom made for his body. The inside was a soft, pressure distributing memory foam that wicked moisture away from the skin. He could remain laying inside for weeks at a time without developing bedsores. The restraints that kept him safe and secure were lined with the same. The soft fabric cuffs went from shoulder to wrist and thigh to ankle. No matter how hard or long he pulled on them, he could not hurt himself. Takeshi learned the importance of the restraints when one of his first dolls amputated his own hands and feet inside the box. He cut them off, slowly slicing through the skin and the tendons and the fascia, pulling at the cuffs. Of course, if he hadn’t struggled, it never would have happen. But Takeshi learned and adapted. Akihito was strapped in, his arms restrained and his legs spread and cuffed to the sides of the box. 

The box was light proof, that was important, but still well ventilated by a series of fans that also provided a wonderful white noise to drown out any extraneous stimulation. The tubes coursed in through sealed holes, allowing nourishment in and his waste out. 

Takeshi circled the coffin, watching the boy sleep through dark, smoldering eyes, absorbing every detail of his beautiful body into his mind. It belonged to him now. And soon Akihito’s mind would too. He listened to the labored breathing as the propofol drip stopped and he began to wake; the slow, gasping breaths he took. He smiled satisfactorily as the terror crept across his pale face. Even as his body began to writhe violently and his chest pound, Akihito slept, lost in a nightmare of Takeshi’s making.

He knew exactly what Akihito felt, the absolute horror, terror, self-hatred and despair. And he savored every moment. No one knew this precious boy’s nightmares better than he did. He had made them, forged those fears in the fires of his childhood. Like Satan’s violin. And now he had played those strings masterfully, forcing his influence upon Akihito’s fragile mind.

The box would deny Akihito all external stimulus, the boy would be forced to look inside his own mind for comfort. And there, he would find Takeshi. Because there was no one else to find. He felt confident that he had made sure of that. He had replaced Asami’s hold over him with the much stronger bonds of brotherhood.

Over the next few days, he would relive his darkest nightmares and stay at the pinnacle of distress, until he lost all hope. His struggle to stay afloat would be delicious to watch but in the end he would drown.

As much as Takeshi wanted to be there, to see that expression on his face, the moment Akihito died and the doll took his place, that was something Akihito had to experience for himself. Alone.

We are all born alone, and we die all alone. 

He gazed upon his beloved baby brother lying motionless in his coffin. The mark on heel would grow, overtaking his body, his heart and his mind. He smiled, stroking his temples lovingly. Waiting for his taint to consume the boy would require patience. But for Akihito, he could be patient. The boy would be resurrected into his new life, only serving him. 

Soon he would drink from him again, that exquisite terror, that fear that intoxicated him from the moment he laid eyes on Akihito and knew….. here was a boundless well to quench a sadist’s thirst. His. For life.

Yuri closed the lid to the coffin and they waited patiently for the screams to start.

Akihito hurt. That was all the boy knew, the moment he awoke. His legs, his arms, his back and his bottom. There was the hot, fast pain of his injuries. But there was a deeper ache too. The ache of being constrained in a small space, doubled, his limbs bent and contorted for days and then straightened abruptly and not by his own doing. The pain came to him all at once, but consciousness returned very slowly. Seeping into him as the drug wore off. Akihito laid there, listless and weak. He hurt. But the thought of moving hurt worse. At least what he was laying on was soft. It cradled his body and felt nothing like the hard cold steel of the cage. He was warm too. Not hot. Just warm.

His lower back hurt terribly and his insides. His rectum. It felt bruised and battered. Still open. He whimpered as his memories began to come back to him. Crowding in from all directions. He whimpered and thrashed his head, wanting to escape them by opening his eyes.

But they were still there, in the dark with him. All that met his eyes was darkness. Thick and inky. Black, like the dogs, like Takeshi’s eyes, like Asami’s shoes. 

He opened and closed them again, hoping perhaps it was his eyes and not his surroundings. Akihito knew it wasn’t. His mind felt the clearest it had in a long time. He decided to try to move, ignoring the pain, wishing to reach for something to orient him in the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn’t move his arms. They were encased in something, soft, like what he lay on. And so were his legs. He could wiggle his fingers and toes, but the rest of his body, he could hardly move inside the confines of whatever encased him. Bile rose in his throat as he began to panic. His heart thudded in his chest as he realized he was closed in something. Not just the blackness was closed around him, but something solid and tangible. He could stretch out his feet and feel the base of it. He could reach out his fingers and brush the sides and if he stretched his neck, he could feel the top. It was like it was made, just for him. Like a coffin.

For a moment he thought he had been buried alive. But then as he moved and wiggled, he realized there was something in his bottom. Something inserted into his penis. And something brushing his lips.

He had no access to his lower body to explore what was happening down there. But the one over his face he could. Akihito lifted his head, trying to feel what the object was with his lips, slowly closing his mouth over it. It was rubbery, like the nipples of the bottles Takeshi fed him with. 

He latched onto it with his lips and was not surprised when liquid spilled into his mouth. He had to suckle hard, pulling with his throat, but the milk flowed into his stomach. He wanted to laugh, but he was so hungry and thirsty he couldn’t spare the time. He pulled and pulled and pulled until there was nothing left and then he pissed, not because he had to, but because he was curious to see what would happen. He wanted to test a theory. Not a droplet landed on him. Whatever the thing was in his penis, it took the fluids away. He stayed clean and dry.

He realized now, that wherever he was, it was by design. 

Akihito’s wildly thudding heart began to slow in his chest. He hadn’t been buried alive. Whoever put him here meant to keep him alive. Even despite his panic at being enclosed in total darkness, the thought was comforting. The air he was breathing was clean, not warm or stale. Something was obviously recirculating it so that he did not suffocate. There was a low hum above his head, steady and constant. It was all he could hear.

“H-Hello?”

No one answered. 

Akihito called and called. But no one came. He heard nothing but that slow steady hum in his ears. It droned on and on and one, making him feel as if he had cotton in his ears. He concentrated on trying to get free. If it was a coffin, the lid would open if he could just get his arms free. He pulled at the restraints. They weren’t tight so much as long. His arms were enclosed in something that went above his elbow. If his elbow had been free perhaps he could have maneuvered his shoulder and bent his arm and wiggled it out of the sleeve. The boy wiggled and squirmed, writhing and contorting his shoulder joints. The other problem was that something was separating his head from the rest of his body. A metal slat that prevented him from raising his shoulders. He could move about an inch up or down, but not enough to wiggle free of the padded sleeves. But that didn’t keep him from trying, pressing with his toes, pushing against the metal above his shoulders in hopes it might bend or break. 

After a bit, he exhausted himself. There was nothing left to do but listen. He strained to hear, pressing his ear to the side of the wall. It was as quiet as if he had been buried ten feet underground. There was nothing but silence, thick and oppressive. As he listened he could swear the box grew smaller around him. Quickly the sound of his heartbeat filled his mind. Blood thumping and pounding in his ears. It felt like he was smothering to death, suffocating on the thick darkness that enveloped him. He was alone. So utterly and completely alone. 

Akihito moaned and began to cry helplessly. His eyes burned and his lashes were wet but he could do nothing to wipe them away. He wanted to go home so bad. He wanted to wake up in Asami’s arms and pretend all of this had been a bad dream. That his Daddy still loved him and he was still Asami’s Princess. 

He closed his eyes to pretend but all he could see where the dogs, looming over him with their teeth bared. The bathtub of blood. Asami’s eyes, glowing so coldly in the dark, filled with rage and hate.

Asami had put him in this box. Because he didn’t want him anymore. He had put him in a box, like a toy tossed aside.

The boy whimpered at the thought. It frightened him more than the confinement and the dark. He had been abandoned. Akihito began to call his name. He would hear him, he would come. Asami promised, he would always come when Akihito called. He promised.

His thin voice quavering at first, he began to call for him. “D-addy!! Daa-ddy!”

His voice grew in strength and volume as he shouted over and over and over, thrashing the best he could to make as much noise and possible, thumping his shoulders against the padded walls. He shouted and screamed and kicked and hit, over and over, until sweating with effort and shaky with weakness, he once again gave up the struggle. Not a sound was heard from outside the box. He waited breathlessly.

No one came for him.

Asami didn’t come for him.

Akihito didn’t care what he did to him. He could hurt him again, beat him or rape him…. even sic the dogs on him again. But to be left like this. Made to feel like nothing. Abandoned and discarded, forgotten and alone. Loved by no one. Remembered by no one. It hurt worse than any physical pain. 

Tears trickled a path down his cheeks, dripping down his neck and into his hair. He wanted to sleep, to turn off his mind and pass the time in oblivion, but it wouldn’t come to him. It might have been hours or minutes or days that passed. Akihito had no way of measuring the time. It felt like an eternity. His mind kept replaying the events of the past days, causing him far more agony than the pain in his body. He wished he were dead. If Asami didn’t want him anymore…. he should have just killed him. It would have been better than the loneliness and the dark. The boy cried and he cried, until his eyes burned with salt and his tears wet the pillow beneath his head. 

He had no reason left to live and yet, even the peace of death had been denied him.

-


	43. Flashback

 

Takeshi clicked the mouth prop open with his thumb. The metal wings went click- click-click and there they stayed until he pressed the little lever that allowed the forceps to close. It was also called a ‘bite block’, primarily used by dentists and oral surgeons to help support the patient’s jaws during long, tiring procedures. The top jaw rested on the top wing and the bottom jaw rested on the bottom wing. When the prop was opened, it forced the jaws open and apart. It was actually for the patient’s comfort…. or while they were unconscious and could not hold their mouths open.

Takaba-sama, of course, had found another use for it. Takeshi had seen him force it between the second wife’s lips and open it wide. She had screamed and gurgled… but she couldn’t close her mouth. The things he had done to her mouth, Takeshi wasn’t much interested in doing to Akihito.

But he had discovered something interesting about his sweet baby brother.

Akihito was terribly afraid of spiders.

Takeshi found that verrrry interesting.

All of Akihito’s fears had come from him. He had given Akihito’s all of his phobias. He was the one who had molded and shaped the baby’s nightmares. And yet…. he had never taught Akihito to be afraid of spiders.

He simply… was.

It was a fear inherent in the boy. Takeshi wanted to play with that. Would his reaction be even stronger? What would happen if he kept Akihito in the toybox and put it in there with him. What if he tied him down and put a spider on his tummy? On his arm? Perhaps his face?

Takeshi clicked open the mouth prop on more time and grinned. He knew just where he was going to put his new pet. The tarantula crawled up Takeshi’s arm. It was the hideous, most grotesque spider he had ever seen. Not poisonous of course. But very, very scary.

Takeshi looked towards the toy box and smiled at the little slit in the side where one blue eye was peeking out, watching him and trembling, so wide he could see see the whites all around the iris. Akihito was terrified.

He was about to become a lot more terrified.

Takeshi’s two pets were about to become very intimately acquainted with one another.

-


	44. Entomophobia, Taphophobia

One week later Takeshi opened the box. Like a child on Christmas morning, he was gleeful ecstatic and ravenous for the first sight of Akihito as he was meant to be…. broken. His eyes blank, his mind wiped, his body weak. Destroyed by Takeshi’s hand, shattered by the dark. 

But when his black gaze peered down, that wasn’t what he saw. 

Eyes full of peace and joy gazed up at him through crystal clear blue lenses. And Akihito smiled as light fell on his face for the first time in weeks.

He smiled because instead of the blackness consuming him as Takeshi had expected, it had cradled him. In the deep depths of his despair, in the abyss… Asami had come to him. The Asami he remembered. His Daddy. Every day he had come to Akihito in his coffin and held him. He had wiped his tears and kissed his lips. He had lain beside him and stroked his hair and told him bedtime stories. All the fairytales he had made up when Akihito was a baby. Yes, Akihito knew Asami had made them up, had twisted them and gotten them all wrong. And he hadn’t cared. They were beautiful just the way they were. Asami had created them just for him.

They had lain face to face and talked for hours. Sometimes Asami was angry and yelled at him, but mostly he was sad. He was sad for the way things had ended between them. Sad for lying and sad for the mistakes he had made. Akihito was too, sad for hurting Asami and sad for leaving him. They cried together and Asami held him and they forgave each other. Their lips met and their hands intertwined in the dark. And Akihito had not been alone. Not for a single second.

Because what Takeshi did not understand was that no matter how deep he burrowed in Akihito’s head, no matter what memories he twisted and ripped and replaced… he could never touch his heart. And that was where Asami rested in Akihito. And in his darkest moment, that was where Akihito retreated. Not into his mind, his broken, confused, shattered mind…. he went into his heart and there he found Asami and love and the freedom he had craved for so long. The key to escape was there all the time, safely locked inside his breast. He had walked in the mountains and swam in the oceans. The world was full of beauty and he was free to travel as he pleased. Everything he wanted and needed was there. 

And Asami. Always Asami.

They were freed of their constraints; of parent and child, of weak and strong, master and slave. In Akihito’s heart, they stood on equal footing as friends and lovers. They held hands and explored the world together. They drank from cool mountain streams and made love in the sunlight amidst fields of wildflowers.

He had been left alone in the abyss, with nothing but Asami’s love to sustain him. But that had been enough. And there, in the dark, Akihito had found peace, with himself and his past. 

It was something Takeshi could not understand. 

But he knew defeat when he tasted it. It was sour and bitter and stung like ash on his tongue.

He realized perhaps, he had been going about this all the wrong way. Perhaps he couldn’t take Asami out of Akihito. But he could still take Asami away from Akihito.

Takeshi slammed the lid down in frustration and pressed his lips together thinly. He spoke curtly, “Ready the Pit.”

Yuri eyes glowed and he did as Takeshi asked. It didn’t take him long, just a day to make all the arrangements. Yuri believed in always being prepared. And there was certainly no shortage of skeletons to use. Takeshi thought he ground them all up, but Yuri had kept the bones of his favorites, restrung and hung like windchimes in his room, molded into chairs and tables and even his bed was made of the bones of children. And there was one little child he had kept. Not even Takeshi knew about her…. he thought she was dead. And for all practical purposes, she was. That was why Yuri loved her so…. his own sweet little pet.

The boy was too weak to move on his own. He had to be lifted from the coffin. Compared to when Yuri put him in, it was like lifting air. Akihito was a shadow of the boy who had gone into the box. He could feel every bone in that thin, fragile body. Power and lust surged in his veins, throbbed in his pants. He wanted this boy like he had never wanted any of this others. Perhaps because this was the only one forbidden to him. 

Takeshi had forbidden Yuri to participate in his torture as anything more than a prop, forbidden him to take his pleasure from the boy.

But Takeshi couldn’t control everything. He would get his chance alone with Akihito. Sooner or later. 

The boy looked at him with those sleepy confused pretty eyes. Sadly, there was no risk he would confuse for Asami today. He had washed out the black hair dye and his grey eyes without the contacts looked nothing like Asami’s.

He enjoyed the way Akihito had looked at him when he thought he was Asami. The desire and pain and need. As if he had hung the moon. It had made him feel so powerful. Yuri stared into the boy’s eyes as he carried him. He had the longest lashes Yuri had ever seen. The bluest eyes. Like looking at the sea on a calm day, the sky reflected from above. He remembered how they had looked up at him, pupils dilated with embarrassed arousal. Wide open in horrified pain. He remembered how they had looked at him, thinking that he was Asami, those pretty lips calling him Daddy. His cock hardened in his pants just thinking about it. He hadn’t quite understood Takeshi’s obsession with the boy… but he did now. Yuri’s hand lingered on the fragile ladder of his waist, petting that soft, delicate skin; wondering how it would taste between his teeth. How it would pop. He wondered how many holes he could carve into him and fuck before Akihito died, writhing in agony.

Pity. That flesh would be so pretty, carved up on the table, his bones crowning Yuri’s headboard. 

Takeshi caught his lingering touches with a sharp black eyes and Yuri moved to get on with it. He strapped Akihito’s slender wrists together with thick leather cuffs and strung him up with a hoist, leaving Akihito balanced on his toes. His mouth curled up as the boy whimpered at the painful stretch of his joints. Yuri couldn’t wait for the screams to begin. The pit was a pleasure he didn’t often get to partake off. The lambs were usually broken well before they had need of it. Akihito had lasted much longer than most. How he did it, Yuri didn’t understand. 

But nobody made it out of the pit intact. Nobody.

But then Akihito wasn’t quite like the others. So this time, they had added a special touch. Insurance.

A voice, thin from disuse, but still so lovely curled in the silence of the playroom dungeon, asked dazedly as if he was still asleep, “A-Asami?”

Blind with fury, Takeshi grabbed the closest weapon he could from the rack nearby to use on the boy’s stretched, vulnerable little body. It was a cattleprod. The boy didn’t know that though. He didn’t know what it was. Yuri stood in the shadows. The introduction of virgin skin to a cattleprod was always especially lovely. 

Takeshi’s eyes were wild and furious with anger. He wielded the prod like a sword, stabbing it between Akihito’s protruding ribs until the end of the hellish probe dug into his delicate side. Without hesitation, he pressed the button on the handle of the probe, sending 5,000 volts of electricity into Akihito’s weak muscles. His whole body exploded with pain and lurched forward against the bonds but the straps held his wrists securely as he spasmed, convulsing from the electricity, nearly pulling his arms from their sockets as he lost his footing. His horrible screams reverberated from the walls of the cell at almost a deafening level. The dazed sleepy expression was viciously erased from his face, replaced instantly by wide-eyed terror. Oh yes the Princess awoke from her dreams at his kiss but Takeshi kept the button depressed for almost a minute more before he released it, that fragile body jerking the entire time.

Two bright red points appeared on his white skin and Akihito limply hung from his wrists, his body still twitched and seizing.

“I’ll give you your precious Asami, little whore.” 

He jabbed him again, pressing the cattle prod against his soft bottom and pressed the button again, delivering another painful jolt to his system, stressing his heart. It was possible, in his weakened state, that the electricity might kill him. If Takeshi hadn’t been so angry he would not have used the cattleprod on Akihito. But in his fury, he ignored the danger. Yuri might have stopped him. But he realized wisely, if Akihito died, that meant he would get the body. Yet another friend to keep his own little pet company. So he smiled in the shadows, said nothing and remained where he was. The ever faithful servant.

His buttocks, clenched and writhed, the muscles moving and twitching under the skin like snakes until the electricity stopped. Akihito’s teeth were clenched, his nostrils flared, his raw nerves alive with pain.

“You ungrateful little cunt. After everything I did for you, everything I’ve done. Its still him you want isn’t it? Well, my precious Ototo, you can have your precious Asami.”

Yuri carefully tapped out a line of white powder into his palm. He approached Akihito from behind and clapped his hand over his mouth and nose as Takeshi shocked him again. His pained inhale took the powder deep inside him and the strong hit of cocaine hit his system almost immediately. He then poured a sticky mix of honey, pollen and feces. The smell was pungent, sickly sweet and rotten. He smeared it all over his body and face, taking care to slop it into his ears, nose, mouth. He roughly rubbed it in his hair as if he was trying to scrub it into his scalp. The thickest layers were applied to his genitals and up the crease of his ass. Yuri took care to squirt the filthy mixture deep into his rectum. Akihito squirmed and whined weakly in his bonds, but he helpless to stop him and soon his skin was covered in a layer of the sticky slime. The smell was overwhelming.

“Take him to the pit.”

Yuri lifted him by his wrists and dragged him across the cement floor to the drain at the other end. There was an old sewer access covered by a grate, that the building’s basement had been built over. Takeshi ahd Yui had discovered it long ago and walled it off from the rest of the sewer when they realized how very useful it could be. 

It was a perfect circle, tall and narrow, approximately three feet in diameter and well over six feet deep. Just wide enough for someone to stand in and far too tall for for Akihito to climb out of.

Yuri forced Akihito on his knees at the edge, so that the boy was staring down into the black pit. To the boy’s terrified eyes, it yawned like a mouth, waiting to gobble him whole. He whimpered in her, his eyes open wide as he stared down into a deep, dark abyss that he could not see the bottom of. Yuri kept him kneeling, just on the precipice.

He didn’t want to go down there, “Please Takeshi-”

“Did you really think that I would let Asami live, after everything he did to me? Everything he did to you? I did this for both of us. so that we could be together. And you still want HIM. Fine. Go to him.”

Akihito mouth opened wide in horror at the implication of his words but the scream didn’t escape until Takeshi shoved the tip of the cattleprod against his anus and sent horrible electric shocks up into the boy’s tender rear orifice, deep into his guts. 

He howled in misery, his hips jerking and knocking him off balance. He fell forward, pinwheeling his arms as he plunged headfirst into the darkness. He didn’t fall far. The darkness of the pit made it seem much deeper than it was. His descent was stopped by the squelch of mud, providing a soft cushion for him to land on. Which was the only reason his delicate bones were not smashed to bits by the fall. 

Takeshi did learn from his mistakes. 

The little blond whimpered, disoriented and confused by the shock and the pain and weakly rolled to his knees, crawling and searching with his fingers until he found something solid. It wasn’t the wall. It was hard in places, knobby, with sticky fleshy bits. He walked his fingers across it , finding a large hole and then a few inches above the hole…. hair. 

His ear-piercing shriek rang loud, bouncing off the walls of the pit and rising in the room where Takeshi finally turned on the dingy light bulb on the wall above the pit and he could see what it was. He jerked his hand away from it and the skull fell into the mud, splattering dark muck on the walls, a cockroach skittered out of the eye socket and disappeared into the thick black hair. There were bits of skin on the bones, the chin, ears, and scalp was intact. The cartilage of the nose was gone but the nosehole was still filled with pink tissue and snot, the pearly white teeth were surrounding by perfect pink gums. Only the flesh of the face had been scraped away, the bones of the cheek and orbits scratched and gouged as if the skin had been ripped off by teeth. As if the face had been eaten.

Akihito turned away from the horrible sight and pressed himself against the cold concrete walls of the pit, his little hands scratching and scrabbling to find away to climb out, frantic to get away from that hideous mutilated head.

Takeshi mocked him, “Whats wrong Akihito? I thought you wanted to see Asami, your precious ‘Daddy’. Well, there he is.”

No.

No. 

The rest of the decapitated corpse was lying prone in the mud, as if it had been thrown carelessly in the pit. The red stump of his neck had a silk tie tie around it. Expensive leather loafers protruded from the mud where its feet would be. The bit of the torso he could see was clothed in a perfectly tailored custom suit that clung to his broad shoulders. He could see the strong jaw of the head, the slicked black hair. Beneath the rotten, sweet smell of the sticky slime coating Akihito’s body and features, he could detect the faintest hint of Dunhills and tobacco.

“No” Akihito whimpered aloud. “No”

“Oh yes.” Came the voice above him, “Yes, Akihito. Yes. Did you really think I would let him live? After what he did to our family? Of course not. And thanks to you, I finally had my revenge. Even the great Asami Ryuichi screamed when I fed his face to the dogs.”

The broken little boy reached out with his trembling hands and reverently touched thick strands of dark hair, brushing it back over an unmarked brow. Akihito pulled the skull out of the mud and held it cradled in his lap like a baby, bent over in pain as if he had been punched in the gut. A low keening wail of utter loss churning its way out of his throat emerging until he finally let loose an eardrum-shattering expression of misery; prolonged, inarticulate and mournful.

Takeshi tilted his head back and closed his eyes in rapture. He let the sound of utter despair wash over him. It was the most beautiful song he had ever heard his brother sing. It went on and on and on, echoing over and over again, off the stones walls, down the dark halls, past the glassy eyes of the mounted heads. And then he began to cry, still wailing in grief, retching and vomiting as screams continued to claw their way out of his gut. His plaintive cries of utter pain continued on and on, until he grew hoarse and silent, his ravaged body curled up in the pit and he clutched Asami’s skull to his chest like a beloved broken doll.

It was his fault. All of it. Everything that had happened. 

If he had trusted Asami, none of this would have ever happened. Asami had killed his family to protect him from their darkness. He had saved him. He had protected him. And Akihito had led him to his downfall. Akihito deserved to be here. He deserved to be punished. He was a horrible, useless, ungrateful child. How many times had he wished to be free of Asami? How many he times had he wished him to go away? To be free of his overbearing, obsessive overprotectiveness? 

And now he had gotten his wish. 

Akihito moaned, rocking back and forth on his knees. His fault. His fault. And now Asami was gone. And he was never coming back. 

His fault. His fault. His fault.

It repeated over and over in his head; a silent litany of self hatred that destroyed his will to live, mounting and spiralling out of control, burning the boy’s mind as the drugs ran their course, lighting his brain on fire.

Takeshi cackled with glee and indicated to Yuri to get on with the show.

He called down to the grief stricken boy, “You wanted to be with Asami. Aren’t I a good brother Akihito? I’m giving you your wish. Now you can be with him, forever.”

Yuri grinned as he tipped the wheelbarrow up and the dark dirt began to pour out, raining down into the pit. It fell on Akihito and he coughed and choked, trying to escape, but there was no where to go. Thick clumps fell on him, wetly slapping against his skin and bouncing off of him. The floor began to fill with dirt. Moving wriggling clump of dirt…. snakes and spiders, beetles and cockroaches. Akihito screamed in terror as they stuck to him, their little legs squirming and beating as they tried to get free. Still others spread over Akihito’s writhing body and began to eat, attracted by the sticky sweet honey and fetid odor. An enormous cockroach crawled up his arm and he shook, trying to dislodge the bug, but it stayed stuck in the honey. The pit quickly filled with bugs and snakes. He was being buried alive in insects. They streamed over his head, getting stuck in his hair, crawling all over him, creeping into his ears and nostrils and mouth. He was in up to his waist now. Snakes slithered past his thighs, their reptilian skin seeking warmth, their forked tongue seeking sweets. He could feel them probing the opening of his body, bucking and jostling, as if trying burrow their way inside. He twisted and writhed in the pit trying to escape, but there was no escape. They twisted and slid all around him, as if trying to consume him. Spiders crawled all over him, cockroaches sucked the sugar from his flesh, beetles pinched his tender skin and sugar ants swarmed in his orifices. He had to continually twist and shift his hips as things tried to follow the path of the honey inside his moist tunnel. His fingers pulled them from his ears, the insides of his nose as they disappeared further inside and blocked his ability to breath. Screams escaping from his teeth, clenched in effort to keep them from crawling down his throat. 

Akihito's screams were music to the sadistic ears of his brother. He knew there were no bugs that would do that pretty porcelain skin any lasting damage. It was the cruel damage they were doing to Akihito’s mind is what was going to last and last and last….. The boy had always had always had a deep seated fear of insects and snakes. To be buried alive in them caused something to snap in his brain. He continued twisting and crying, writhing on top of Asami’s corpse, practically seizing, crunching the bones with his spastic jerking. His fingers continued frantically pulling bugs from his body, even as they swarmed around him, their greedy mouths seeking out sweet skin and moist crevices to hide in. His fingers dug them out of his anus and his ears and his nose, all the openings of himself, his innermost sanctuary, only to have them constantly replaced by more and more and more, burrowing into his mind and his heart and his soul.

-


	45. Hush Little Baby

It was over eight hours before the screams stopped. Takeshi left him in the Pit for another twelve hours after that. Ten hours longer than anyone had ever been left in the pit.

He wanted to be sure, absolutely sure, that when he pulled the boy out, that the only thing he would see in those pretty blue eyes, was death.

The death of hope, the death of joy and love …. and the death of that bright light that shone in his eyes. 

Takeshi wanted to look into Akihito’s eyes and see nothing but his own reflection. To know that the flame of his soul had been extinguished, once and for all.

Yuri hauled the boy out of the pit, ripping away the mangled skull his fingers still clung to and discarding it like so much rubbish, tossing it back into the pit. The boy not a sound, not even a whimper, even as his orifices were flushed, his hair scrubbed, the scratches and wounds on his body treated with antiseptic. When the mud was scrubbed from his features and Takeshi finally got a chance to look into his eyes, he smiled wide.

Akihito’s beautiful eyes were as blank and glassy as a doll’s. He saw nothing. He registered nothing. He stared ahead dully. There was a complete and total lack of awareness. The boy was finally empty, his mind and his heart. He had finally taken Asami out of him.

Takeshi smiled lovingly, running his hands over the boy’s clean damp curls, so pretty. Such a pretty baby. Now he was finally ready to become what he was always meant to be; Takeshi’s beloved baby brother. 

The boy refused to eat on his own, so each meal was forced upon him with a special bottle; the nipple was a rubber dildo gag forced in his mouth and strapped around the back of his head. It was shaped like a penis and stretched the boy’s lips and cheeks obscenely, forcing him to drool and gulp for air around his full mouth. The only sounds he could make were faint burbling and gurgling noises. Just like a baby.

The gag was kept in at all times to prevent any sort of speech as well as desensitizing his gag reflex. The tip of the penis lay on the back of his tongue, tickling the back of his throat. The center of the rubber cock was hollow, a hose running through it that liquid could be funneled through. Several times a day, Takeshi would attach the nozzle to the hose and pump whatever fluid he felt like directly down Akihito’s throat. Most of the time it was milk or some sort of gruel, but it amused the two sadists endlessly to empty their full bladders into the funnel and watch Akihito frantically gulp the stream of piss down as he tried to avoid drowning. His little belly would swell like a baby’s full of milk and it kept them from having to interrupt their games for bathroom breaks. 

Whenever he was out of his box, Akihito crawled. He never did try to stand or walk, but Takeshi kept him in a Humbler, even so. It was a beautiful stock of black lacquered wood that cupped the back of his thighs and fastened around his testicles, stretching his scrotum up and back between his legs. His delicate pink balls presented so prettily, exposed from behind, unprotected and vulnerable to anything they might think of to do to them. Though Takeshi still detested the sight of testicles on his lovely Akihito, he had to admit that they certainly served wonderfully as a training tool. Even the slightest spank or slap to those tender stretched glands jolted the boy’s body with pain. And by keeping them clamped in the Humbler the boy was forced to stay on his knees. Every movement of his legs jostled the heinous device causing a constant dull pain in his groin and lower belly. Any attempt to rise up or even straighten his legs, stretched the scrotal skin, pulling it tighter and tighter, increasing the pressure on his balls until he couldn’t stand it anymore. At no point could he possibly manage to stand completely upright. Akihito had to stay hunched forward, on his hands and knees, where babies belonged.

His anus was kept full at all times, as an adjunct to the Humbler. The dildos they forced deep inside his intestine were long and very rigid, straightening his sigmoid colon and long enough to reach the flexor of his intestine. When inserted correctly, it curved with the shape of the boy’s bowels when he was on all fours. He could crawl with the large dildos inside him, but when he tried to rise, even just a little, the boy was met with deep cramps, forcing him to stay bent at the waist. It penetrated him at his body’s absolute maximum length.

They had started with a small one, not even an inch in diameter. The boy would hardly have noticed it, if not for the depth. He was given an enema every day, and then a good hard fucking for several hours to fatigue his internal muscles. After that a new dildo was inserted, always a bit thicker. The latest was over three inches in diameter. Takeshi intended to take him to the largest size they had; an enormous one as wide as a grown man’s fist the entire length of the shaft. Takeshi wanted Akihito’s anus to become dependent on the plug all the time. It would be weeks yet, of constantly stressing, stretching and breaking down his internal sphincter muscles before the boy would realize his final predicament of slavery. His insides would be so stretched and floppy, he would lose all control over them, forced to wear a diaper to contain his bowel movements, just like a baby.

Akihito was already quite used to the diaper. Every night, he was put into his box with his loins wrapped and swaddled in a puffy white diaper, into which he was expected to void his bladder, so that Takeshi’s little baby would grow accustomed to laying in his own urine. It was normal, only a natural part of what babes did.

His baby brother seemed to have grown accustomed to his new situation, he even seemed to want parts of it. Takeshi was overjoyed. Why, he even seemed to enjoy his little box now….

it was true. Akihito did like his box.

It was the one place he felt secure and safe. 

As the days grew into weeks, he actually found himself relaxing into his new routine. As time wore on endlessly, he simply became the thing Takeshi meant him to be. He didn't think, he didn't react much and he certainly didn't fight back. He hardly noticed the painful indignities to which he was subjugated. He had fully slipped into the role created for him by Takeshi. He did not see himself as a person anymore. He was no longer Akihito. He was just a helpless animal, with basic physical needs, unthinking, mindlessly behaving on instinct. He was Baby. Takeshi’s baby. Slightly more than a thing…. but not by much. He was his toy, his playmate. And as long he cooperated and amused them, the pain they heaped on him was not intolerable. Or perhaps he had simply grown inured to it. 

He still remembered the white hot terror and agony of his first few days with them and the threat was still ever present; implicit in all their actions, in all their words, and in everything they did not say or do. Akihito prefered not to think about the past… or the future…. or anything at all. It was too hard. His brain resisted, protecting him with a thick cocoon of darkness, knowing that if Akihito were truly comprehend his situation…. he would not be able to stop screaming.

He grew to love the box; the soft padding that enveloped his battered body, the total silence and darkness. He dozed and dreamed, happy to be left alone, no matter how long it was. It was the only time he was free of their demands. 

Hell was not inside the box, hell was outside of it.

He never knew how much time had passed when they came for him, but they always did. Lifting the lid and freeing his arms and legs from the soft restraints. The playroom was kept dim, but after so long in total darkness, even the lowest light burned his eyes. At first, he would feel grateful for the movement, the ability to stretch his stiff limbs. But all too soon, he was subjected to a bath, which generally consisted of roughly tying his hair back and hosing his body off with freezing cold water. Afterwards the nighttime dildo would be slowly and painful extracted from his bowels. They left it inside him for long, long stretches of time and it always hurt to have it removed, his body having closed down on it and become accustomed to its presence. His intestines would be flushed with the same cold water and he would squat and shit on the floor at Takeshi’s command. He had long lost any sense of privacy of the act. His body was not his, afterall. He would be bent over and ‘walked’, his testicles clamped in a vice that kept him on all fours while he crawled behind Takeshi’s wheelchair on a leash. His daily exercise. 

After his walk, the small rubber nighttime pacifier would be removed and replaced by his larger ‘daytime’ one, ruthlessly shoved into his mouth and strapped behind his neck to prevent him from spitting it out.. He always gagged and retched for the first few moments as the enormous rubber length snaked its way into his throat, his neck muscles convulsing spastically, but it had gotten easier and easier to take. He couldn’t quite remember when the last time he had spoken was. Had he ever spoken? Akihito simply couldn’t remember. He couldn't seem to remember much. And thinking hurt. So he just didn’t.

Once the gag was in place, then it was time for breakfast. Some sort of fluid, siphoned down his throat into his stomach by the gag. It was delivered in such a way that he couldn’t taste it, bypassing his tongue completely. All he could ever taste was the rubber of the fake phallus. He was never sure what the liquid was, but there was never enough of it.

They never gave him enough. He was always hungry and always thirsty. Kept weak and disoriented and half starved. It was part of how they controlled him so utterly and completely. His brain was denied the nutrients it needed, making it shut down. Making it hard for him to process what was being done to him, the constant deprivation reducing him to an animal, his basic desires overriding any sense of self and dignity.

Akihito even welcomed it when they pissed into the hose, his shrunken belly finally feeling warm and full. His body gratefully absorbed the water from their urine, for even it was better hydrated than he was. He longed for a cool drink of water, but he was never given one. 

After breakfast came the bench.

If Takeshi felt Baby had been ‘bad’, perhaps resisting his enemas too much or not taking the gag as eagerly as he would have hoped, Akihito would be punished; his bottom paddled raw or his back whipped. Sometimes they tortured his testicles or his tender nipples. The worst was when they made him ride his ‘horsey’.

It was a simple wood sawhorse, the top edge tapered into a dull point. He would be lifted and sat on top of it, his testicles and penis lifted out of the way to prevent permanent damage to his genitals, though that was little comfort to the boy. 

His slender legs would be spread on either side of it it, his hands tied behind his back, his little feet dangling inches above the floor. It was horribly painful, because even as thin as he now was, his entire body weight forced the rough edge into his crotch and anus. It felt like his body might be split up the middle by the cruel wooden device he was forced astride. Once, when Takeshi had been in a particularly foul mood, he had whipped Akihito’s thighs and bottom while the boy’s legs were tied together on either side of the horse, forcing him to wiggle and ride the rough wood between his legs. The damage it had caused to his tender cleft had put him out of commission for nearly four days, the boy unable to crawl or move in the slightest until it healed. Takeshi did not do that again, but he still made Akihito ride it from time to time. It was a study in pain as his sex was split by the pressure, the sharp agony dulling to an aching throb that only grew with time.

Sometimes Takeshi would leave and he would be left alone with Yuri. Yuri knew better than to mark him without permission, but he liked to kick the horse underneath Akihito, each thump and bang of his foot making Akihito groan in pain, the impacts jarring his sore young crevice on top the merciless wood. 

When he was removed from his horsey, miserable and bowlegged, they would lay him on the bench. It was always a welcome relief. 

He was laid on his back, his wrists untied from behind his back and tied at his side. His legs were propped comfortably in stirrups, bent, lifted and spread as wide as they would go. The spread of his legs had been uncomfortable in the beginning but now he was used to it. His legs were nearly in the splits, his anus gaping and vulnerable. He was grateful that they were supported from underneath instead of tied and left to lose circulation. The bench was padded and somewhat comfortable, his body and neck well supported as well. It was designed for long hours of penetration. 

In the beginning the boy had hated the bench. It didn’t offer him orgasms, but the stimulation did provide a small relief to the pressure that built in his testicles. It embarrassed him the first time the copious fluids leaked all over his stomach by his limp cock. But he knew now, there was no point in being humiliated by it or feeling shame. His body was Takeshi’s. It no longer obeyed him, only Takeshi. He handed out pain and Akihito now understood that pleasure was his to hand out as well, if he so desired. If pleasure was to be had in this shrunken world of torment, it was certainly preferable to pain. 

Between the widespread legs of the bench rested a device of hellish creation. A machine built and designed by depraved sadists. A massive dildo was coated with lubricant and pressed inside him. He moaned at the painful spread of his anus, the depth and speed at which he was penetrated by the machine. The pain was undeniable, it felt as if the cock got larger each and every time they forced it inside him. The movement would start slow. Takeshi would check the alignment and depth of the thrusts, making sure that Akihito’s anus was being penetrated deep, fast, and hard, but well within the boy’s physical limits. Once he was satisfied that no internal injuries would be sustained, the speed of the machine would be increased and it would begin fucking Akihito’s tender orifice in earnest, powering the punishing cock in and out of him, plunging, almost too fast to watch as the boy’s most intimate area became the recipient of an unstoppable pounding. 

The poor boy would wriggle and writhe, trying to relax and take the pounding with less stress, seeking a position that might relieve some of the discomfort in his belly, the pressure in his guts and the merciless pounding of his mechanical rapist. No relief was ever found. He was simply made to bear it. Hour after hour after hour, the machinery would slide back and forth in an untiring motion no human could provide, stretching and pummeling his muscles, beating them into exhaustion, plunging forward and back in a steady relentless rhythm.

Sometimes he came, gushing fluid from his limp cock, in the beginning, from the constant battering of his prostate. It was simply a physical reaction of the gland to the stimulation. He never got an erection, which was good, because if he did, Takeshi would punish him for it. Babies don’t get erections and Akihito is his good Baby. He would dribble onto his stomach, barely aware anymore that it had happened. His mind shut down in an attempt to protect the boy from his horrors.

This is how Akihito spends his days. 

There is no way to keep track of the time except for the occasional break he gets as the enormous phallus is withdrawn completely and his tender anus is filled again with slippery lubricant to keep his soft interior flesh from being damaged by the hours of continuous fucking. Sometimes, not very often, if its Yuri alone tending to him and Takeshi is not there, Yuri would remove the gag that fills his mouth too. 

It was always the greatest relief as he was allowed to briefly stretch his poor jaw. Yuri would dribble just a little bit of water into Akihito’s drool soaked mouth and the boy would take it gratefully, opening his mouth wide and willing, like a baby bird hungry for more. That was when Yuri then would open his pants and tilt Akihito’s head back. The boy’s nose would end up smothered by his sweaty musky balls as he fed him his cock, steadily slipping the length down his throat. It didn’t bother Akihito after the gag that is much longer and broader than Yuri’s unimpressive manhood. He simply laid there, slack and relaxed as Yuri grabbed handfuls of his hair and humped his face like a piece of meat. Like he was already dead. The fantasy that he was fucking a corpse’s mouth never failed to arouse the necrophiliac and he would deposit a thick load of cum in the boy’s mouth before reinstalling his gag.

Then the valves and controls of the machine were worked until the phallus was forced back into his bottom, the dildo thrusting in and out endlessly after only the briefest respite. Akihito would be left alone again, with nothing to do but submit to the rape of his body and taste Yuri’s salty, sticky residue... for hours and hours to come, as the days turn to weeks. 

It was little wonder that Akihito relished his time in the box. 

After the bench, sometime he would be forced to fuck himself with a dildo in front of Yuri and Takeshi and they would laugh at his weak, pitiful struggling and limp cock flopping like a fish out of water. Then he was would be ‘fed’ again. After that the large daytime gag would be replaced with the smaller one he wore to bed. His ‘pacifier’ Takeshi called it. The rigid dildo would be removed from his bottom and an even larger one would replace it, snugged and shoved as far as it would go into his guts. But the one he slept in was soft and pliable, despite its thickness and it allowed him to lay down with only minimal discomfort. He would be strapped back into the box and the lid would be closed and then finally, finally the blackness would return to claim him. 

And in the dark deep abyss, in the depths of Akihito’s mind... Asami still lived, carefully locked inside Akihito’s heart. 

When the lid was closed and his torments were over, the broken boy would turn the key and open the door to that perfect place in his head…. and there would be Daddy, always waiting, ever patient for his beloved Princess to return to the safety of his arms...

-


	46. Don't Say a Word

Takeshi was absolutely delighted with Akihito’s progress. The boy was coming along so nicely.

Ever since he had convinced him of Asami’s untimely demise, he had submitted to anything and everything they could think of to inflict on him. He had been utterly obedient, acting completely cowed by Takeshi. Just like when he was little. His precious baby brother had truly been returned to him.

It still somewhat bothered Takeshi that the only way he was able to break Akihito was by convincing him of Asami’s death.

It truly bothered him that he had been unable to make Akihito truly hate Asami. That boy had continued to love Asami, no matter what horrible, vile acts the false Asami inflicted upon him. It was as if, his mind believed it, but he had never truly convinced Akihito's heart.

The strength of the connection between them was something Takeshi had not encountered before. It disturbed and angered him. He couldn’t understand it.

But, regardless, no matter how he had broken him, Akihito was broken.

He had shown not the faintest hint of resistance to their games in weeks. In thirty short days, Takeshi had completely transformed him. Yes, it had only been thirty days. It probably felt much longer to Akihito, though he doubt the boy had any concept of time anymore. Tomorrow was their one month anniversary. He had something very special planned in celebration, but first he wanted to make sure the boy was absolutely ready.

Baby was removed from his box, bathed, exercised and fed as always. Takeshi then removed the gag. The boy stared at him blankly, his jaw open and slack, drool running over his chin. He smiled at that and gently wiped his mouth like a baby. Pretty baby.

His hair had grown even longer. It was still lovely, all those luscious golden curls cascading down to his hips… but they were in the way more often than not. And it wasn’t befitting of a baby to have such long hair. It wasn’t befitting of a baby to have any hair at all.

Takeshi knew that it was likely grown in accordance with Asami’s preferences. So in a way, it was his last hold over Akihito. And he knew if the boy resisted cutting his hair, it would be because some part of him still belonged to Asami.

If he refused to cut his hair, Takeshi would subject him to another thirty days of training. But if he accepted the scissors, well, that meant he was ready for the next step. He was ready to truly become Takeshi’s perfect baby doll, mentally and physically; neutered, with cute little fingerless fists, severed Achilles tendons to keep him crawling, a teeny baby tongue that was enough to suck but not to speak and a sphincterless rectum. The physical modifications would be extreme, but babies had no need of any of those parts anyway.

Takeshi sat him before a mirror and handed him a pair of razor sharp scissors. He had to guide Akihito’s fingers through the holes. His hands were clumsy, he had not held anything in so long. A spark of confusion lit his eyes as he held the potential weapon. Yuri stood in the shadows with a tranquilizer gun at the ready, should the boy have more spark left in him than they thought.

“I want you to cut your hair for me. Can you do that Aki-kun?”

It was the first time he had used the boy’s name in weeks and that alone seemed to jolt some awareness back into his fractured brain. He clumsily lifted the scissors and caught some of his hair between the shears before closing them.

A single blond curl fell onto the floor, like a snowflake landing in the mud.

Lovely.

More began to fall as the boy warmed to his task. His blue eyes blank but his expression stormy, not meeting his own gaze in the mirror. The haircut was rough and uneven, some strands cut just millimeters from his scalp, others left dangling to his shoulders as he removed the last mark of Asami’s ownership; his beautiful golden hair.

Soon the entire mass of honeyed tresses lay on the ground at Takeshi’s feet and the boy’s head dropped in total submission. Takeshi’s black eyes glowed with triumph.

He would be rewarded for this. Yuri made quick work of the rest of Akihito’s hair and then produced a sharp razor and a rich lather, efficiently shaving his head until it was completely denuded. Takeshi felt excited by the sight of skin he knew had not been revealed since he was a child. He was as bald as a baby. Akihito’s bare scalp glowed pink and pale and soft in the darkness. His eyes were dull and vacant and he did not flinch as Takeshi ran his palm over it. He had finally grown used to his brother’s electric touch.

“Good Baby. Very good.”

As powerful and triumphant as he felt, he did not linger in the playroom with the boy. There were many preparations to be made for their special evening. He rewarded Akihito though, strapping him into the bench for an extra long and vigorous session with his ‘toy’. Though he was Takeshi’s Baby first, he was still a Salope whore like his mother too. And all whores needed their holes fucked as much as possible. Be it not said Takeshi ever neglected his baby brother’s needs.

The boy moaned helplessly, groaning as the metallic cock pistoned feverishly inside of his slack hole. He needed a bigger one. They were going to need to upgrade him again soon. After the surgery though.

Tomorrow they would celebrate and then his physical transformation could begin.

At dinner Takeshi thought, he would wear his finest evening wear, Akihito could wear another pretty pink dress. The boy would like that. It would be just like their first meal together, except this time Akihito.. would supply the meat.

He closed his eyes, envisioning his fantasy…. Akihito would sit beside Takeshi at the head of the table, strapped into his ‘high chair’, his legs spread wide. He would be quiet, like an obedient wife next to her husband. His pupils would be dark from the PCP the appetizers would be laced with.

Angel dust for his little angel.

It would dissociate Akihito from his body and numb the pain of the surgery. The boy would obediently cut where Takeshi told him to cut, his hands guided by Yuri if necessary, but it would be Akihito himself who would remove his own testicles from their little sac. It would be Akihito himself who would finally realize Takeshi’s dream.

‘Snip- snip.’

Takeshi grinned in delight, making the cutting motion with his hand.

The scrotum would be left in place, dangling and empty. Yuri could the excess skin to later fashion a pretty little pussy from it. Empty of course, but it would look so lovely below the tiny stump of Akihito’s severed penis. The boy would remove that himself too, of course, and then Yuri would insert a catheter into his remaining urethra. It would stay in place as he healed and prevent it from scarring over, blocking the expulsion of urine. They had learned that after the first two. Takeshi remembered their pained screams as their bladders filled and the scar tissue prevented them from expelling the urine. They had both died from septic shock, but before that, their suffering had been absolutely lovely. That wasn’t to be Akihito’s fate though. Takeshi wanted him to live a long and healthy life.

They would cook his genitals in a thick buttery wine sauce, in a hot pot, simmering on the table in front of them. They would be delicious, seasoned with Sichuan peppercorns for zest and goji berries for sweetness. Akihito would certainly not refuse the luscious meat this time around. And if he did, well, all the more for Takeshi then.

It would Akihito’s last solid meal, all his teeth soon to be removed so Takeshi could see that pretty gummy smile he missed so much. Baby would not need to teeth to drink his milk anyway. He was sure Akihito would not miss them.

Takeshi had documented the entirety of Akihito’s journey back to babyhood with videos, but tomorrow evening they would have a little photoshoot before dinner and then another after dinner. Lovely photos of them together that Takeshi could finally put in the family album.

It was a date. It would be perfect, he would make it so. His eyes opened, his pleasant thoughts left a faint smile on his hideous face. Takeshi knew he would count the hours in anticipation. Him and Akihito, tomorrow night, his beloved baby brother…..

-


	47. Ring Around the Rosie

The same thirty days that seemed like forever to Akihito, passed in an instant for Asami. Eternity truly was, but a second.

He woke and his last memory was of Sion…. and his Princess; running from him, barefoot, blood streaming down long, pale legs…. His baby boy.

“Aki-hito?”

He pushed himself upright. His deep voice was hoarse and raspy from disuse, but his golden eyes were sharp, aware instantly. Like an animal, there was no period of drowsiness between sleep and wakefulness. Instantly, Asami was fully aroused and in complete control of all of his faculties.

That was because his coma had not been a true coma. When waking from a true coma, resulting from a brain injury, it was nothing like what is shown in the movies, as if the patient simply wakes from a deep sleep. It was slow and gradual with patients becoming more and more aware over time. They may be awake and alert for only a few minutes the first day, but gradually stay awake for longer and longer periods. In the beginning, they would not be able to focus their eyes or respond to questions or move in any purposeful way.

It was the exact opposite with a drug-induced coma. They were reversible, the patient often coming right out of it as soon as the drugs were removed.

That was exactly what doctors were aiming for in Asami’s case.

His sharp gaze narrowed on the physicians crowded around his hospital bed as they stammered to explain to the powerful man, intimidating even from a hospital bed, why he had lost thirty days of his life.

He had lost an incredible amount of blood, hemorrhaged internally from the damage to his heart. His brain had become oxygen deprived and there was risk of nerve cell death. Acting quickly, they had placed him in a medically induced coma, using barbiturates to reduce the electrical activity of the brain, which reduces the metabolic and oxygen demand of the tissues and protects the cells. Shutting down function gave his brain time to heal, pausing it in time.

It also gave his heart time to heal. The shot to the chest has knicked the arteries that supplied the muscles of the heart. The tissues quickly became ischemic, putting them at risk of severe and permanent damage. In the emergency surgery to repair the torn vessels, his heart was stopped and put on ice so the surgeons could operate. His circulation was maintained by a cardiopulmonary bypass pump, that also transfused blood into him. The maximum time it was recommended to be used was ten hours.

Asami’s surgery had taken twelve. At the end of the surgery, the cardiac surgeon decided it was necessary to maintain him in a coma, keeping his blood pressure and heart rate as low as possible to allow his heart time to heal. The neurologists agreed.

The medical team had wanted him kept under for three months. Kirishima refused. Not because he disagreed medically, but because they had still not found Akihito. While it was true that waking Asami too early and subjecting him to stress might endanger his recovery, every moment he slept meant Akihito slipped farther from him. And that might kill not only Asami when he woke, but everyone responsible for keeping him asleep.

As soon as it was possible, Kirishima forced the doctors to wake him.

Asami’s eyes glowed with barely contained fury as the surgeons preened in front of them, congratulating themselves on their success. Not only was his heart beating strong, not showing even the slightest hint of muscular damage on the EKG, but his mental faculties were completely intact.

Fully intact. Kirishima watched Asami’s fingers twitch. Whether in longing for a gun or a Dunhill, he wasn’t sure.

Sharp golden eyes scanned the room, noting quickly that Akihito was not present and then spoke calmly and coldly, “Get out.”

The doctors bowed low and attempted to pacify him, counseling him on how important it was that he remain in bed, that he not attempt any physical activity and that he avoid anything that might cause him stress….

His voice roared, bellowing through the hospital corridors and making the nurses jump in fear, “GET THE FUCK OUT.”

Moments later, only Kirishima and Suoh remained, their faces placid but blanched betraying their fear.

There was only one question Asami would ask and the answer was the last one his faithful men wanted to impart. But it was the only one they had. They were at an utter dead end. Akihito had disappeared into thin air.

“Where is my Princess?”

All information they had had been carefully compiled in a report that was promptly handed to him alongside a Dunhill.

He lit it and took a deep drag of the cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. One of the nurses moved to enter the room and tell him to extinguish it. Apparently, the woman was suicidal. Her life was saved only because she was intercepted by one of the bodyguards.

Sharp golden eyes surveyed the report detailing their exhaustive search over the last thirty days. Every lead they had chased had led them to a dead end. They were no closer to finding Akihito than they had been the first day. Kirishima and Suoh were ashamed and embarrassed at their failure.

Asami said nothing for a long moment and then motioned for his suit, pressed and hanging at the side of the bed. Both men averted their eyes respectfully though Asami changed without shame, flinging his hospital gown off roughly and dragging his suit on like a coat of armor over his nakedness. If he felt any pain, he did not show it. The catheters and IV had been removed before he had awoken and the only thing left that showed Asami had been in the hospital at all was the red vertical scar in the left side of his chest and the hospital bracelet. It too was quickly removed and cast aside.

It was perfectly obvious he was leaving.

Suoh and Kirishima knew better than to try and stop him. Fully dressed in his three piece suit, he was every inch the Dragon; invulnerable and in command.

Even still, one of the doctors did make a foolhardy attempt to stop him, “Asami-sama, sir, you cannot leave the hospital. You must….”

The doctor’s words died in his mouth at one cold look from those yellow eyes and he fell back. No one else tried to stop him from leaving.

It wasn’t until they were in the limo, driving back to Sion, that Asami spoke again, “Akihito knew. He knew his real name, about the Takabas, and he knew I killed them. That was why he ran away. Why he… did what he did.”

Kirishima inhaled with shock.

Asami stared out the window, his expression grim, “I want to review the twenty four hours leading up to his escape. Everyone he spoke to, everything he read, saw or watched. Someone got a message to him, somehow. And I want to know who.”

Kirishima nodded, the video surveillance had already been compiled, every minute of Akihito’s life for the two weeks preceding the events that had transpired at Sion. He and Suoh had poured over them tirelessly, looking for clues, anything that might help them. But they had not known what to look for. Now they did. Kirishima immediately began to replay the footage in his head in a new light. He realized he knew exactly who had gotten a message to Akihito.

“It was the Inspector.” He said slowly but with certainty.

Ten minutes later they were at the penthouse, the footage playing on a sixty inch screen. The cameras at Sion were the best, no grainy footage or dull black and white images. The security cameras were military grade, recording every detail of every illicit affair, every dirty transaction. Each and every moment was captured with crystalline clarity. From a distance, it had seemed like the Inspector was trying to grope Akihito’s thigh, his hand scrabbling to pull down the boy’s garter and molest his milky flesh. Several different angles were viewed and once they zoomed in, it became clear that the Inspector had not been trying to pull the garter off, but rather to tuck something into it. A tiny slip of paper was clutched in his fingertips and it was not there seconds later when he was tackled to the floor. Nothing was left on the stage.

Suoh swore, “Son of a Bitch!”

It was so fucking obvious. But they had missed it. They had all missed it. It had happened right before their very eyes and not one of them had seen it for what it was.

Asami’s jaw clenched, “Has the trash been taken out by housekeeping?”

“No sir, everything was left just as it was, they da you… left. Sir.”

Asami stayed his men with his hand and went into their bedchamber alone. He could smell him. Hints of lavender, jasmine, rose… and the luscious musk that was all Akihito’s and Akihito’s alone. The scar in his chest throbbed. His boy, his precious Princess, out there alone in the world. Unprotected. Thirty days. It was practically an eternity, anything could have happened to him. Akihito was helpless, hopelessly naive. Asami had controlled every aspect of the his life. The boy wouldn’t know where to go or who to trust. He had run away with no money, no clothes…. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his palms beginning to sweat as images of broken, battered bodies floated in his mind. The horrific fates of child prostitutes and the innocents who fell into the wrong hands in Kabukicho. His Princess was so beautiful, so very beautiful. All those who saw him could hardly keep their hands from his body, overcome with desire and lust, even despite Asami’s protection. Now out there alone… Asami forced his mind into submission, his dark thoughts into the background. His mind needed to be free of fear, his thoughts clear.

He would not panic.

He would get Akihito back, and use any means necessary to do so.

Asami searched the bedroom and the bathroom, and found no trace of the note. Despite his ironclad control over his emotions, there was a cloying sense of urgency in his veins. A sense that Akihito needed him, now. That finding him in a day or even two might be too late. Today. He had to find him.

He went into the boy’s dressing room, that had been his playroom as a child. He could close his eyes and see Akihito as he had been; the beautiful little cherub that had saved his life. Sweet and gentle and shy. Afraid of his own shadow and yet still so trusting. He had so badly wanted to make Akihito’s life perfect.

It had all started in the very room.

He remembered the first time he had brought Akihito into it, the second bedroom he had labored to turn into a child’s wonderland. Beautiful murals covered the walls, depicting fantastical scenes from storybooks. There were unicorns and knights, Princesses and Dragons. Roses bloomed in the painted garden and the sky was blue and full of puffy clouds with shapes hidden in them. A little red train puffed around and around the room on its mounted track. The ceiling light was a hot air balloon with a teddybear in the basket. There were dolls and games and paints and a little jungle gym castle in the corner, big enough for a little boy to climb in, with a slide and a swing and everything. The floor was a soft plush carpet so that no matter how many tumbles the little one took, he would not get hurt. In the far corner was a teddy bear big enough for Akihito to sit in its lap and next to it was a stack of picture books for him to look at.

When it was all done and ready, Asami took the little boy by the hand and led him into the room. He had watched, enraptured, as big blue eyes and long dark lashes opened wide. Akihito's little pink lips had parted into an ‘oh’ of delight and his tiny body had trembled in his arms.

He had brushed his lips over golden curls and then patted him on his round little bottom, encouraging Akihito to go play. The boy had hesitated, fearfully wrapping his arms around Asami’s neck.

“This is for you Princess.” He explained gently and pointed, “Thats your bear and those are your books and thats your toybox.”

At the mention of the toybox Akihito began to wail in fear and suddenly Asami realized that Akihito was trembling in terror, not excitement.

He whimpered into the side of Asami’s neck, “Please no Daddy, please no.”

Large hands cupped that tiny, lovely face in his hands and brushed the tears from his lashes, “Whats the matter baby? Whats wrong?”

His little lips trembled, “I don’t want to go back in the box, please don’t put me in the box.”

“Put you in the box?!” Asami’s nostrils flared in anger and he grasped him tightly, “Did someone do that to you sweetheart?”

The little boy sniffled, “Take-see. He said I was his toy and toys have to stay in the box…. am I- am I your toy now?”

Akihito looked up at Ryuichi’s face. His long lashes were clumped together and dark from his tears. They were so long and so, so pretty. Asami was horrified by the words he so innocently spoke. The teenager nuzzled the soft plush skin of the little boy’s cheek, feathering kisses all over his face as he spoke, “No Akihito, you are not my toy. You are nobody’s toy. You are you. I’m your Daddy and I’m going to take care of you like your big brother should have. I’m going to love you and keep you safe and teach you all the things you need to know. Takeshi is gone away, for good, he’s never going to hurt you again.”

“Promise?”

Ryuichi sealed his promise with a hungry kiss placed in the corner of Akihito’s beautiful, lovely, perfect, pink lips.

“I promise.”

The voices faded and Asami was left alone again, surrounded by the material evidence of his love for Akihito. The mural had long been obscured by the built in closet and shelving for his clothes. Old cherished toys and teddybears sat on shelves above pretty dress and dainty shoes. Jewels and diamonds, bracelets and necklaces. He had lavished presents on the boy. He had done everything he could to make sure Akihito had everything he could ever need. That he wanted for nothing…. But had it been enough? Everything he had done, everything he had given? Had he loved Akihito enough? He had done the best he knew how… to love him. To cherish him. To protect him.

He had made mistakes. Told so many lies. So many.

But what could he have done? Told a fragile, emotionally unstable boy that he had killed his family and kidnapped him as a toddler? Should he have let Akihito go, knowing that he was prone to self harm, that at any moment he might take a razorblade and slash his own wrists or dissociate and walk out into the street? There had never been a moment that he felt the boy was stable enough to have his independence. There had never been a moment that he felt Akihito could handle the truth. Never. He was naive, he saw the world in black and white and he had no concept of the evil that existed in it. He would never understand the difficult choices and dark deeds a man sometimes had to commit, for the greater good. To protect the innocent.

Asami’s fingers searched his drawers, brushing over bits of lace and satin and silk. Soft like his Princess’s skin. Delicate and fragile and not meant for the harsh world. So easily torn apart.

In the bottom drawer, tossed carelessly on top, was the note. It wasn't even hidden, as if, at the time, Akihito didn’t have any comprehension of its importance and cared little if Asami ever found it.

_Asami thought he killed all of the Takabas….But he missed one..._

The Dragon’s handsome face blanched as he realized what he had admitted to, when he told Akihito his real name. By giving credence to one part of the sentence, in Akihito’s mind, it would have meant the entire message was true. Twelve little words. And they had changed everything. They had brought Asami’s carefully constructed house of cards crashing down around his ears. But he would rebuild it. He would find Akihito, he would make things right. Anything else…. was unthinkable.

He flipped over the card, already knowing what it would say. He had a file compiled on the Inspector already.

_Inspector Onoda, 555-212-2387, Shinjuku Precinct 7._

One phone call confirmed that The Inspector had not been seen at work for a month. Since the night he had been at Asami’s club. A fleet of his men broke down the door to the Inspector’s apartment ten minutes later. They found it empty.

Another dead end.

And though Asami didn't know it, the clock was now ticking.

-


	48. Pocket Full of Poseys

 

Asami strode through the Inspector's squalid apartment, his sharp eyes noting each and every detail, from the rotting mess in the kitchen to the Percocets scattered on the bedside table. Books and photo albums were on the shelves. His passport, official documents were all accounted for. None of his personal effects were missing except a wallet and cellphone. It was as if the Inspector had left for the day…. and not come back, either because he wasn’t able to…. or hadn’t wanted to. No one had reported him missing and the landlord hadn’t even noticed his absence.

She folded her arms over her massive belly under its dirty smock, “Last time I saw him, he was late on the rent and I came up expecting a fight, but he paid me for the year! In gold, if you can believe that! I didn’t have no reason to notice him missing. One of the neighbors complained about the smell, so I had a mind to come check, but hadn’t been able to get round to it. We had a burst pipe on the bottom floor you see and -”

Kirishima nodded, “Yes ma’am. We are not blaming you. But if you could possibly remember the date he paid you?”

“Was the second of the month. I get my money on the first and he didn’t pay. I came up to see him and he was in rough shape. His face all bruised and his hands bandaged. He gave me a gold coin, said it was worth all his back rent and should cover the rest of the year. I thought for sure it was fake, but when I sold it, sure enough -”

“Where did you sell it?”

“Gold buyer on Sakuro Street. He gave me top dollar too. I got-”

“His name?”

She gave the name and Kirishima sent his men to investigate but they both knew that the chances of the gold still being at the shop was slim to none. They were right. But it was soon irrelevant.

In a loose tile behind the toilet, Asami found a stash of gold coins. All together they would have been worth at least two hundred thousand dollars. Which answered the question as to why the Inspector had not returned to the apartment. He would never have left that much money behind. He had not been able to return for it.

Which meant he was most likely dead.

The scent of urgency filled the room. Asami commanded, “His cellphone. Tap into the carrier’s system and find the last place he received a signal.”

The tracking of cell phones was done in two ways: triangulation and GPS, which is standard in smartphones. With triangulation any cellphone receiving a signal could be tracked, no matter how primitive. Three cell phone towers would be used to approximate the location of the cell phone in question. The towers constantly ping cell phones to provide service, so a user's whereabouts and path of travel were easily traceable. Accuracy, however, depends on the density of the cell towers to each other. GPS, on the other hand, was able to pinpoint a cell phone's exact location. All of this data was recorded by the wireless providers.

All major cellular providers retain subscriber information; call records, cell towers used, text message details (including content), pictures, IP details, and payment histories for at least two years. Their stated objective in compiling such data was to improve services, but they actually made a significant profit from the data itself by selling it to interested parties and law enforcement. For enough money, anyone’s privacy was for sale. Their every move tracked by the little computer they voluntarily kept in their pocket. An entire population tagged like dogs.

It was why Asami Ryuichi and his men only used landlines.

Had the Inspector’s phone been a simple analogue device, they would have had to search several city blocks. But it was an Android with a GPS locator. The last signal the cellphone emitted was from building in Shinjuku twenty nine days earlier.

They had an address.

It was one digit off of Sion. The building next door. A team was assembled and blueprints were studied but they still had no idea which floor or which room to infiltrate. And choosing the wrong one might get the boy killed. If he was still on site. They refused to think about the possibility that he would not be.

Kirishima looked at the myriad of floors in the enormous skyscraper, split into thousands of sections. It was a labyrinth, “How can we know where to start-”

“Gold. One of these tenants pays in gold or cash.” Asami said quietly, his eyes scanning the payment histories for all hundred and twenty floors, his keen mind processing thousands of entries with the quickness he was legendary for. He pointed to the one payment entry hidden in the middle with no name and no bank account information. The basement level. Whoever lived there was dedicated to staying off the grid. But that was exactly what put them on it.

The basement level was private and could only be accessed by a elevator that required a keycode to operate.

Asami smirked.

They might as well have left the front door propped open. All he needed was access to the elevator shaft. The elevator would be called to the top floor and disabled. His men would enter the shaft through the maintenance access and rappel to the basement. Elevator doors were absolutely impossible to open forcefully from the outside, no matter what the movies always showed. Their entire purpose and design was solely to keep people from falling down the shaft.

The double doors operated on a simple clutch mechanism that was unlocked and pulled open by the presence of an elevator car on that floor. The electric motor turns a wheel, which is attached to a long metal arm. The metal arm is linked to another arm, which is attached to the door. The door then slides back and forth on a metal rail. Another motor operated the doors to open them automatically in nicer elevators, but that was not necessary. All they had to do was activate the clutch on the inside and the doors could be parted with ease, making their infiltration of the basement level utterly silent.

A team of his most trusted and well trained men silently donned military grade flak vests under expensive three piece suits. Asami stripped down to his bare chest and pulled one on, ripping off the blood soaked bandages in the process. A few of the stitches had popped and the incision on his chest had reopened slightly. A slow trickle of blood made its way down his rippling abdomen.

Kirishima spoke, “Sir, perhaps this is not a good idea, with your wound not yet healed. Why not leave it to us…”

He fell silent as Asami’s eyes raked caustically over him, his strong hands busy screwing silencers onto both guns. The black metal gleamed as he pulled on the holsters. His immaculately tailored suit coat covered them and he picked up his briefcase and walked out the door.

Each man armed to teeth, each gun capped with a silencer and fully loaded. In their briefcase were night-vision goggles, blow torches, gas bombs, tranquilizer darts, assault rifles and rappelling gear. Even their pockets were filled with small incendiary devices. Whatever they found in the basement, they were prepared.

They walked into the building like business men that belonged, focused and in a hurry, as if late to an important meeting No one stopped them, one by one they entered, each taking a different path but all convening on the equipment room. The four guards were already sleeping on the floor, slumped over with tranq darts in their necks. Asami had gotten there first.

He already had the access panel open and had attached the wires to the struts that ran across the elevator shaft. Though Kirishima could tell the men wanted to go down the shaft first and ensure it was clear, none of them said a word as Asami climbed into the darkness and began his descent, leading the way down into the abyss.

Kirishima knew there was nothing that could have stopped him, neither in heaven nor hell, not as long as he believed his boy was down there.

This was Asami’s mission, the rest of them were just there as back up.

Each man had donned their masks and goggles before following him into the pit. He had the elevator doors disabled before the second man even touched down. Five more followed and Kirishima came last. with guns at the ready before slipping silently out into the room beyond. It was empty and almost anti-climactic.

Asami’s skin prickled with the silence. It was quiet, too quiet.

The night vision goggles had been for the elevator shaft and were just a precaution should the basement be dark. They knew from the blueprints that there were no windows and that if the lights were cut, they would be left in pitch blackness.

It was close enough.

There was some light, but not nearly enough. Asami couldn’t imagine Akihito willingly stepping foot in a place like this. The boy hated the dark. Even now, he preferred to sleep with a light on.

It was a large dark drawing room, filled with old, dusty antiques. The floor was old polished wood covered by a thick Persian rug. The furniture was strange, carved with heads of screaming children. The paintings and tapestries that covered the walls depicted the graphic mutilation of the various Catholic saints. The entire atmosphere was dark, oppressive and reeked of evil.

The room led into a passageway with the walls covered by the heads of taxidermied animals. The night vision goggles gave everything a greenish hue and unveiled the grotesque scene in its entirely. He could see that many of the mounted animals were mutilated, parts and pieces cut off, some sewn together to create caricatures of mythical beasts. On the floor was an entire taxidermied dog, with three heads, two heads gazed placidly forward, the other’s teeth were bared in a silent growl. It was obviously meant to be Cerberus, the monster that guarded the underworld, to prevent the dead from escaping and the living from entering.

They could hear a faint rhythmic thumping, coming from behind the door to their right. Over the doorframe was mounted a python, its body draped over the door, the tail merging into what Asam knew was the severed top of a child’s torso. The skull’s jaw hung open in a perpetual scream and even more snakes were fused to the skull. It was the Gorgon Medusa, guarding the door.

The thumping grew louder and more steady, almost spastic. Whatever was happening beyond the door was reaching a climax.

In one hand Asami held a tranquilizer, in the other, a handgun. Both weapons were aimed forward as he kicked down the door and burst into the room. His men covered him from behind.

An enormous man was on the bed, thrusting between the spreadeagled limbs of a small blond tied by the wrists and ankles to the bed.

Asami lost it.

-

 


	49. Ashes, Ashes...

 

He flew onto the bed, teeth bared in a snarl. His hand closed around the man’s thick neck, ripping him backwards and throwing him to the floor. His men immediately closed in on the hulking form and subdued him, forcing him facedown on the ground

Asami stared down at the slender figure on the bed.

It was a young girl, barely more than a child, with small swells on her thin chest and a hairless pink cunt between her legs. But her face… it was a mirror image of Akihito’s. They could have been twins. The same delicate features, cupid bow mouth, button nose and arched brows. Long golden tresses cascaded over her shoulders and across the pillow beneath her head. He felt certain where those eyes to open, they would be a clear radiant blue.

But her eyes didn’t open.

Tubes snaked from her body, entering her nose, her throat, her veins… exiting from her urethra and rectum, running into bags mounted at the bedside. It was obviously she had been in that bed for a long, long time. Years possibly. His horrified eyes took in the rest of the room. Every piece of furniture was made of bone. Human bones. Femurs made into chairs and bedposts. Ribs woven into an ornate arched headboard. A chandelier of skulls stared down with light bulbs stuck in the neckholes. The sheer number was disturbing.. but that was far from the most disturbing. It quickly became obvious who was responsible of the taxidermied animals adorning the hallway. Those were obviously his early projects.

The taxidermied bodies of pretty blondes covered the walls, some were even mounted on the ceiling. Each and every one resembled Akihito. Some more than others, but each and every one had the same delicate features and light coloring. Each body had been mutilated. Before or after death it was impossible to tell. Several hung from the ceiling, their backs and ribs shredded and splayed like wings. One child’s corpse was posed in the corner, playing with his own organs like toys as they cascaded from his empty belly, his dead face molded into an innocent smile. Another child watched him, his tiny fingers clenched around his own heart, white teeth posed above it, as if about to sink into the preserved flesh. Other still were missing limbs, one amputated at the knee and elbow, posed on all fours, decapitated with a dog’s head sewn to its neck. The child’s head replaced the dog which was mounted behind the body, as if fucking it.

Asami could feel bile in the back of his throat, horror and disgust merging into one. One of his men began to retch and the giant man on the ground began to laugh. It was a grotesque stratchy, coughing sort of noise. But it was obviously a chuckle.

Strong fingers clenched in his hair and jerked the head back roughly as Asami growled, “Where is he?”

The man smiled and opened his lips in a wide grin. Asami stared into his empty mouth and Kirishima gasped in recognition.

The ability to recognize faces is so important to humans that the brain has an area solely devoted to the task. Even fifteen years later, even with the man’s added age and greyed hair, Kirishima remembered him instantly.

He spoke quietly, “Asami-sama. I know this man. He was Takaba-sama’s right hand.” 

Suddenly Asami remembered him too. A Russian originally. He had spit in his face. Kirishima had made him eat his tongue and then slit his throat. He pulled back the man’s head and stared at the jagged scar on his throat. The taunting message echoed in his mind....

_Asami thought he killed all of the Takabas….But he missed one..._

He had previously disregarded the last four words, assuming they referred to Akihito. Now he was not so sure. But…. that was impossible. He had killed them all. Each one had died by his own hand, both of the brothers and the mother had taken bullets to the head. He had gutted Takaba-sama himself. Akihito was the only living Takaba. He remembered it clearly.

But now there was doubt in his mind.

Asami viciously slammed the man’s face into the floor, breaking his nose with a loud crack. He appointed two of the men to keep him contained and watch over the girl. The rest of them moved back into the hallways. Each door was opened and each room was searched. One was a room full of mirrors, the next was a room that looked through those mirrors. A bedroom, full of levers and pulls and strange machines. Some looked like medieval torture devices, but Asami recognized them as implements designed to help the disabled. Devices to get them in and out of bed, to help them dress, to use the toilet…. his gaze was quickly captured by an enormous collections of photographs on the wall. Each one had a plaque below it, a name and a date.

The first date was fifteen years ago. The name was Takaba Marie. Akihito’s mother.

She was followed by one after another, each child photographed with expression of utter torment and abject misery on their pretty faces. Each one looked like her.

Each one looked like Akihito.

Asami felt his blood freeze like ice in his veins and he turned from the wall of horror, his guts churning. The urgency was pounding in his veins, his steely control was shaken. He could feel the moisture seeping in between his palm and cold steel of the gun. He clutched it tighter as they moved through a library and into a dining room.

Red roses adorned the tabletop, the scent was sweet and fragrant in the darkness. The head of the table was set with the finest of china and engraved silverware as if prepared for royalty. The place setting at the right pantomimed it, but with scalpels, hemostats and surgical tools instead of utensils. The chair had a number of restraints and an IV pole mounted on it, already hung with saline.

He couldn’t tell if the table was set for dinner or surgery or both.

His question was answered in the kitchen.

Marinating on the sideboard was a heart Asami recognized as belonging to a human being. A small human being.

They weren’t just killing the children, they were eating them too. One of his men opened the door to the industrial freezer and promptly vomited on the floor. It was filled with more. One body part after another, all lined up like meat at a butcher shop.

He could feel the sweat forming on his brow, trickling down the sides of his temples. His knuckles were white and clenched. It took everything he had not to barrel forward into the darkness ahead of them, screaming Akihito’s name. It felt like his mind was splintering, shattering, fragmenting…. and he had only been here ten minutes. Akihito had been here for thirty unfathomable days.

There was only one door left. His hand hesitated on the door handle. He felt in his heart, that was lay beyond it was the bottom of the abyss. Hell.

Asami opened the door half expecting to see flames. Perhaps even Satan himself, dancing in the fire.

He wasn’t far off.

It was one of his minions. He recognized that prominent brow bone, the thick features, the broad pig-like nose immediately. His head was enormous compared to his twisted, gnarled body. He was a hideous creature, more demon than man. A goblin. The whites of his eyes seemed to glow in the dark. His eyes were so black, it looked as if the pupil had consumed the iris entirely. He sat in a wheelchair, a revolver clutched in his hand, blocking the entrance to the door behind him. Four Dobermans snarled and barked in their cages. The room was a kennel of some sort, with a staging area…. and a breeding stand in the center of it. An unconscious shudder ran through him at the implication but he forced it from his mind, his golden eyes narrowed intently on that door. All that mattered to him, was what lay behind it.

The creature in front of it spoke, “Asami Ryuichi. We meet again.”

“Takeshi.” He acknowledged in recognition, finally realizing which one he had missed.... His bullet hadn’t hit the younger brother in the head. It had hit him in the neck. An oversight that would soon be rectified.

He walked slowly and confidently toward the door.

A creepy smile crept across the cripple’s grotesque face, his thin lips pulling back over overlarge teeth. The gun wavered ever so slightly in his hand belaying his intentions. Asami’s sharp golden eyes noted the electrodes on the back of his fingers. He knew exactly where the wires exited. He knew what was allowing the quadriplegic to move his paralyzed limbs because the bioengineering division of Sion industries was the one that developed the technology in the first place. Takeshi obviously thought he had the upper hand. He didn’t understand how much quicker the normal person could move than the artificial transduction system could.

The shot rang out, the bullet embedding in the wall inches to Asami’s left. He had the gun out of his hand before Takeshi could blink and he ripped the FES implant out of the back of his neck with all the care of a man unplugging a btoaster.

Takeshi screamed as the nerves in his spinal cord were viciously ripped out with the base, still attached to the implant. He went limp and Asami shoved his wheelchair aside, carelessly tipping it over, throwing him out of it and down onto the ground. He laid there on the floor as his men walked over him, kicking his body to the side like trash. He began to scream in indignant fury, like a child throwing a temper tantrum because he hadn’t gotten his way. Kirishima silenced him with a vicious kick to his face as he walked by, breaking his jaw instantly. They paid him no more mind than a soiled floor mat.

The dogs were howling and baying at the noise. They were put out of their misery by Asami’s men and suddenly it was silent again. The only sound was the soft gurgling of Takeshi’s labored breathing, blood filling his mouth and blocking his airway.

Asami was deaf to all of it. All he could heard was the sound of his blood pumping in his ears.

His baby was on the other side of that door, he knew it. He could feel it. His precious sweetheart, his loving boy, the light of his life. His sweet Princess.

For all of the last frenzied hours, Asami had been praying to find Akihito.

A dark hopelessness rose in his chest as he realized now…. he didn’t want to find him.

Not here in this basement. Not in this house of horrors.

He hoped Akihito was selling ice cream on a beach somewhere, scrubbing down old naked men at some onsen, trapped on a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific… anywhere but here. He hoped he was far away, in a place Asami might never even find him.

Anything was preferable to finding him here. Anywhere else.

His heart in his throat, he opened the door.

The room was empty, silent.

He reached for the light switch and pulled off his night vision goggles. The light was painfully bright, revealing in garish detail the torture room which he had uncovered. It belonged in a medieval castle, hundreds of years ago.

There were wooden stocks and restraint benches. An iron maiden in the corner beside a dark pit. There was a modified gynecologist’s chair with an machine between the legs, an enormous dildo mounted on one of the pistons. It was as long and thick as a man’s arm. He couldn’t imagine anyone taking it inside their body with causing massive internal damage. Behind that wall, floor to ceiling were more devices of torment, hanging like tools in a carpenter’s workshop. They were a sadist’s tools; whips, chains, floggers, pincers, clamps and horrific sex toys built for tormenting the openings of tender young bodies. His tender young boy. His Akihito.

Fear shined from Asami’s golden eyes.

He did not notice the small box placed the wall behind him until he noticed faint hum in the air. It was a steady and constant whir. Like a fan. His eyes roved the room, tracking the noise until his eyes registered the tiny coffin.

It was like an earthquake began, as if the room was rocking and rolling under his feet as he stumbled forward.

Asami hit his knees and prayed for the first time in his life, even as his trembling fingers grasped the latch. Please don’t let my boy be in here. Please let him be somewhere else. Please God. Please….

It took Kirishima’s steady hands to open it. Asami simply…. could not.

There were no words that could adequately describe the way he felt looking down at his baby boy’s brutalized body. Every moment of the last thirty day was written upon his physicality. He looked more dead than alive, and for one heart wrenching moment Asami thought he was dead. But then he took a breath, a small inhale, a tiny exhale, the faintest movement of his fragile chest.

And it brought Asami back to life.

His hands shook violently as he reached down to take hold of the boy’s face.

It was as if he had shrunk. Akihito had always seemed so small to him, but never had he looked more like the baby he had once been. He was completely bald. Asami’s fingers ghosted over his nude scalp in disbelief. His hair was gone, his lovely golden hair. His legs and arms were bound to the sides of the box. He was as thin as a skeleton, barely more than skin stretched over bone, his groin encased in a diaper. There was a black gag, forced into his mouth, strapped around the back of his neck.

His fingers fumbled to undo the clasp, withdrawing a black rubber phallus from the boy’s mouth. His cheeks immediately lost their artificial plumpness, collapsing inwards, giving his beautiful face an almost unrecognizable gauntness. He heard someone whimpering and realized…. it wasn’t Akihito.

“Get out.” His voice graveled to the men watching.

Kirishima did not make him repeat himself. They exited single file and the door was closed behind them. Asami gently drew the restraints off Akihito’s thin arms and legs. So delicate. It seemed to him, that one wrong move and he might shatter the boy’s fragile limbs. As carefully as a man picking up broken glass, he slipped his hands under his waist and bottom.

His right hand felt something hard where he expected only softness. Gently, he removed the diaper and probed between the boy’s legs, palpating the warm rubber, heated by his body. Akihito moaned in pain, his head slipping to the side as Asami began to extract it from inside him. He could see it moving in his belly as it was removed, the skin slowly dipping down as his insides collapsed, leaving a deep depression where his stomach was. The enormous phallus was dropped on the floor by numb fingers, Asami’s horrified eyes now seeing the extent of the damage. Between his legs was an enormous yawning cavern, the sphincter unable to close. It was as if he had been completely hollowed out. His belly caved in showing the extent of his starvation. Each limb was barren of muscle, wasted completely. Asami moaned in torment.

He began to sob, great tears of anguish, his lips pressed thinly as the salty tears cascaded over them.

What Asami felt for Akihito was so much more than love. That word utterly failed to adequately convey how he truly felt about the boy. It went beyond infatuation, beyond obsession, and beyond love. From the moment he had met him, the need to protect him had consumed him, it was burned into his consciousness. His entire life had been built around Akihito and only Akihito. His precious baby boy, the angel that had fallen into his hands. The precious gift he never deserved but would never relinquish. He had done everything he knew to do, to keep it safe.

And he had failed, so completely.

Asami had wanted Akihito to be his and his alone, and it had been so tempting, so easy to keep it that way, utterly isolated. He had wanted to be with Akihito in every way he could. He wanted to be everything to him. The boy was too young to know any better. Too frightened to ask for more. He never let him have any friends. He never let him outside. He had controlled every aspect of his life. And in so doing, he never treated him as anything more than an object… a precious ‘thing’ he put on display and possessed. He had promised him that he wouldn’t be anyone’s toy. That Takeshi would never hurt him again. And he had failed.

Takeshi had put him in a box. But Asami had done it first.

In trying to escape, the boy had gone from one prison to another.

And it was his fault. All his fault.

He lifted Akihito out of the box, clutching his limp, helpless body to his breast, stumbling and falling back onto his knees, his teeth juddering in his skull as he tried to regain control of his muscles. The swaying and jarring woke Akihito and his eyes opened slowly.

What Asami saw in them destroyed him. He heard the anguished screams echo in his mind before they began.

It was a long time before he realized, they were his own.

-

 


	50. We All Fall Down

All Asami could see when he looked into Akihito’s eyes… was his own reflection. They were dark, dark from the inside out and empty like a doll's eyes. That light, that bold, brave, beautiful light…. was gone.

Akihito’s eyes were blank and unsteady, the pupils blown as the irises bounced in his skull erratically. He didn’t seem to recognize him. Asami clutched the small figure to his chest as he struggled weakly to get away. Akihito whimpered and squinted against the light like he was in pain. It was as if he was having trouble even focusing his eyes. How long had those animals left him in that box? How long had it been since he had seen the light?

Asami’s chest throbbed and pounded with the horror of the situation.

The boy whimpered, his head falling down as he shook it in confusion. Asami’s hands moved to touch his cheeks and he ripped his head away, mewling in fear and panic, beginning to thrash. He pushed against Asami, squirming weakly, he was beginning to cry, terrified by the unknown hands on his body.

Asami let him go and he crawled away on his hands and knees. He could see his back now. Every knob of his spine, his protruding hipbones, each and every rib…. every fresh welt and bruise that covered his buttocks and the backs of his legs. The gaping blood-red opening of his body sagged between his thighs. It look like he had been fucked with a tree stump.

The more Asami saw, the more he wanted to vomit. To scream. To punch Takaba Takeshi in the face until he turned it inside out.

Akihito finally stopped moving, exhausted by his efforts, he slumped on the cold hard floor. He looked back at Asami with saucer-like eyes. The boy was skin and bones, his mouth hung open slackly, as if he had forgotten how to close it. Drool slid down his chin.

Asami felt his rage building as he took in the pitiful sight.

He moved towards him slowly. Akihito began to tremble violently as he approached, his entire body was shuddering. He ducked his head as if trying to disappear.

Asami slowly squatted in front of him. He held out his hand. “Princess, its me. Its Daddy.”

His eyes rolled frantically in his head and he closed them, shaking violently, turning from Asami’s hand. Asami wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to take Takeshi’s neck in his hand and squeeze and squeeze and squeeeeze. He wanted to rip his balls out through his throat and kill him over and over and over again...... But now was not the time for that.

The big man got down on his hands and knees and crawled a little closer. Akihito watched him come with enormous wary eyes. When he got too close, the boy scootched back, drawing his knobby knees up to his chest and pushing his heels against the floor.

That was when Asami saw it. His beautiful precious little foot…. had been branded.

"Oh my god," He whispered, his heart feeling as if it was about to rip itself from his chest. Akihito whined pathetically in response and continued to push himself away from Asami. He ended curled up in the corner of the room, his legs tucked in front of himself protectively.

He had finally cornered himself. There was nowhere else to go.

Asami moved in carefully, so as not to startle him further. He crouched down before him. The boy hid his face in his knees, curling up in fetal position.

He spoke softly, gently, “Akihito, sweetheart, its me. Don’t you recognize me? Its Daddy.”

He moved to touch him and the boy jolted and mewled again, little animalistic sounds of pure terror. As if he was too frightened even to scream. Or perhaps he did not have the strength. Akihito peeked up at Asami with frightened eyes and then curled even tighter in on himself, hiding his face in his hands as if it might make him disappear from view. His tiny body convulsed in terrified shivers. Every fiber of his being screamed, ‘Don’t touch me’.

Asami pulled his hand away. He slumped to the floor next to the tiny figure, careful not to touch him and frighten him further. He was at a loss. He wanted to pull Akihito into his arms, envelop him in his strength, to take his fear from him and make things right again ….. but he knew it was not something he could achieve by force. He felt utterly helpless.

He swallowed, trying to move saliva past the lump in his throat, unaware of the tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked at his beautiful, broken baby. Akihito remained curled up in fetal position and Asami took off his coat, gently covering his bruised, naked skin from the cold air. Aki gave a low plaintive whine in his throat at the touch, but his little fingers gratefully scrabbled to pull the thick fabric over his head, hiding under it.

The older man was unsure of what to do, what to say… unsure of what the boy could even understand at the moment. He waited for a long moment before slowly moving to touch the form huddled under his suit coat. Only his tiny pink toes protruded from underneath the dark fabric and even they were curled in on themselves in fear. He brushed his hand gently over the curve of his back and Akihito glanced at him before quickly hiding his face again.

He didn’t seem to be as frightened, his panic attack slowly easing, though his breaths still came in hoarse panting gasps. Asami continued stroking his back, soothing him with gentle touches, like a frightened animal. He never broke contact, keep his hand on him at all times, making sure Akihito knew he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere and that he was not going to hurt him. The way the boy looked at him broke his heart, as if as any moment he expected Asami to turn on him and savagely brutalize his helpless body. He had never laid a hand on Akihito in anger. He had never hit him in his life. He couldn’t understand the fear on his face as he looked at him. Akihito wasn’t in his right mind…. he had never looked at him like that.

Never.

He began to speak, just a constant litany of words, a slowly steady hum, “Shhh baby, its all right. Daddy’s here now. I’m here and everything is going to be ok. I love you so much darling, its over. Its over and now we are going to go home.”

Akihito’s entire body jolted at the word.

He went slowly, latching onto Akihito's reaction to the word ‘home’. Some part of him understood what Asami was saying.

He continued in that vein carefully, “Do you want to go home Princess? I’ll take you away from here and you won’t ever have to come back. Ok baby? But you can’t go by yourself, I have to take you there. Can I pick you up? Can I touch you sweetheart? Won’t you be a good boy for Daddy and let me touch you?”

At that, something in Akihito seemed to break and he began screaming in anguished rage. His face flushed bright red and he threw aside the suit coat, coming out and attacking Asami like a wild animal with his fingers clawed. He seemed to be trying to gouge Asami’s eyes from his skull. He went for his face, scratching at it with his nails, slapping him and punched him weakly, fighting as hard as he could, pounding his fists against that hard, hard chest. Asami’s arms closed around him like iron bands until he couldn’t move, pinning him down so that they were nose to nose and Akihito was forced to face him. His hands pulled up, his wrists and forearms contorting unnaturally in a hysterical contracture, trapped between their bodies. He screamed incoherently over and over and over again into the Asami’s face, the veins in his neck bulging. It was an endless litany of mental anguish and torment.

And just as suddenly as Akihito had began fighting, he began clutching at Asami, wrapping his arms around his neck and squirming, pressing his body as close as he could get. He collapsed limply against him, burying his face in his shoulder, moaning in exhaustion. Asami tucked him into his body, trapping and surrounding him with the warmth and safety of his strong arms.

He stroked his temples, wiping away the tears that began to flow. “Thats it baby, let it go. Let it go…”

He held him tightly as the little boy sobbed hysterically, panting for breath as he cradled him, rocking him slowly and rubbing circles on his thin back to calm him down. He held his head tight against his chest, cupped in his hand, rocking Akihito in his lap. He continued murmuring to him, “I’m here. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you. I’m here, I’m here…”

The deep catching sobs turned into silent tear drops and then those turned into hiccups. And then finally, finally, Akihito turned his face up to look at him.

Blue eyes burst into tears again and he buried his face in anguish. Asami held him close and rocked him gently, letting the cycle repeat. Finally he seemed to quiet and Akihito stared at him solemnly, teardrops hovering in his long lashes. He looked and looked and looked at Asami as if he thought he was dreaming. As if he couldn’t believe Asami was real. His hand reached out, trembling and touched Asami’s cheek. He pushed on it as if he expected his hand to sink into it, as if he thought Asami was a ghost or a hallucination. His other hand came up and began to pull on the skin of Asami’s neck. It hurt but he didn’t stop him. All over his face, curious fingers roamed, pulling and tugging on his mouth and eyelids and ears as if he was testing to see if Asami’s face was a mask and he might somehow peel it off.

He submitted patiently to it, closing his eyes when Akihito tried to put his finger in his eyeball. Little whimpers began to escape the boy’s lips as he searched Asami face for reassurance. Despite the intense raging pain and anger he felt raging inside him, he gave him a gentle smile, “Hey Princess.”

Akihito gave a low keening animalistic wail and sobbed again into Asami’s chest. He could feel him shivering as if beginning to panic again, but the boy was simply too exhausted and overwrought for another anguished display. His body was covered in bruises. Asami wanted to kill Takeshi over and over and over again. A thousand deaths, each more horrific than the last….. and he doubted that even that would assuage the rage burning inside. He clenched his teeth in hot, impotent anger but the hand that stroked Akihito’s naked back was exquisitely gentle. He leaned over just a bit to grab his suit coat and Akihito squeaked and clutched him as if afraid he was going to leave.

Asami clutched him close, “I’m not going anywhere Akihito. I won’t leave you. Not ever, ever again. Ever.

Akihito looked at him, his eyes flicking up and then nervously away. In that brief second of eye contact, he could see wounded shadows of doubt deep in his eyes. It cut him deeply. He grasped his head in his hands, “Akihito, baby, I promise.”

He whimpered and fidgeted nervously in Asami’s lap. His blue eyes were still drifting as if he was disoriented. He was probably severely dehydrated and god knows what else. Asami knew he needed to get him medical attention, “We are going to go now ok?”

Akihito began to slowly crawl across the floor, toward the door, pulling himself awkwardly along, scraping his bony knees. His calves looked utterly emaciated, his feet dangled uselessly behind him as he dragged himself across the floor. Asami could see the brand on his left heel fully now. It was the kanji for Takeshi’s name. He knew how sensitive the boy’s feet were, how soft and delicate that skin was. He couldn’t imagine the horrific pain…. the screams of all the men he had tortured over the years rang in his ears….. with one more voice added. His precious boy.

He swore under his breath, grabbing his suit coat once more and draping it over Akihito’s naked back. He cried out in fear as Asami wrapped him in it and lifted him into his arms, his hands clinging to Asami’s shoulders. He wrapped the suit coat tightly around him, carefully padding his bones. He was afraid if he squeezed him too hard he might crush him.

He weighed no more than he had as a child. He was like a baby that had been stretched out. It was like carrying air, like the boy in his arms has been hollowed out. Like a doll.

Asami’s chest ached and waves of emotion washed over him, one after another, sheets of water drowning him in the intensity as he carried his precious boy out of hell. Akihito whimpered, overwhelmed and over stimulated as the warm light of day fell on him for the first time in forever.

To the young boy in his arms though, it wasn’t the sunlight that chased the shadows away. He gazed on Asami’s pale face with huge wet eyes, refusing to look at anyone or anything else... as if it had become his entire world and nothing else mattered.

The wound in Asami's heart ached.

-


	51. Rockabye Baby, in the Treetop

Akihito had fallen asleep in the car on the way to hospital, still cradled in Asami’s arms, utterly exhausted. Asami left Kirishima behind to deal with the police and the EMTs that arrived on scene, once they made the call. There was simply too much evidence to sweep it under the rug. Too many bodies, possibly with family searching for their missing loved ones. They would not find Takeshi or Yuri though, his men had already taken them to another location. Asami would dispense their justice himself, not the courts. Kirishima would say they found the basement empty, except for the bodies…. and the girl. He allowed none of them to touch the boy, Akihito was too traumatized for that. It would only make things worse. He kept him covered and enveloped by his arms, like a shield against the world.

His personal physician was called and a dark quiet room in the corner of a private hospital was procured. That was where Akihito slept. His wrist had seemed too thin to take an IV, but the doctor had managed and now a steady stream of nutrients, fluids and sedatives flowed into Akihito’s veins.

Asami accepted that the doctor had to examine him… but his boy didn’t have to be awake for it.

A CAT scan was taken, his small body laid inside a machine that could see into every part of him. The radiologist’s report stated nothing was damaged. That the boy was perfectly intact… his organs and bones anyway.

But the pieces didn’t make a person whole. Asami well knew that.

He stood over his bedside, his hand resting on Akihito’s head. His golden eyes intently watched every move the doctor made as he examined his wounds, and then lifted and spread those slender legs, strapping them into stirrups. He watched over his shoulder as a speculum lubricated only with water was inserted and the wings were gently spread so that the physician could examine him internally for injuries. Akihito moaned in pain and Asami's lips ghosted over his forehead, murmuring to him. The bright light shined on his privates, illuminating the worst of Takeshi’s abuse. The opening to his body looked ravaged. Even without the speculum holding it open, Akihito’s rectum furled open in a permanent yawning gape. The sphincter muscles were completely lax, utterly lacking in tonicity. The mucosa and skin around his anus was blood red, as if it had been subjected to countless hours of friction, something rubbing against it for hours… days even.

His throat was so tight he had to force the words out, “Was he raped Doctor?”

The physician swabbed his rectum internally, but he saw no secretions, even under the light.

The doctor shook his head, “I find no secretions. If so, the rapist would have been wearing a condom… but this kind of damage. Its not from rape. At least, not in the conventional sense. Its the size of the object that did this. No human being has a penis of this girth and length. Did you see an object in the room where he was kept, like a dildo or a plug? Some sort of oversized artificial phallus?”

Asami’s mind flashed back to the gleaming metal cock mounted on the machine. The way Akihito's thin belly collapsed as he pulled the rubber from inside his body. He nodded jerkily, unable to speak just then.

“I suspect he was forced to wear it, almost constantly. His rectum is too clean to be natural. He’s had an enema, recently. He may have been given them regularly. That combined with the forcible and sustained dilation, starvation and lack of solid foods... his intestinal muscles have all but ceased to function. The movement of fecal matter through peristaltic waves of contracture is what keeps the bowel muscles toned. But you can see how slack his are. Like any muscle, they atrophy when not used. As they atrophied, I believe they were subjected to constant stretching by larger and longer objects inserted into his anus. This was purposeful and deliberate, stretching over weeks, not at all once. There is no tearing, no ripping, no scarring. His mucosal lining and musculature is completely intact. Who ever did this to him did not wish to injure him, but rather render him completely incontinent; incapable of controlling his bowel movements…. I’m sure there was also a sexual component as well.”

“Will he recover?”

“Yes, oh yes. It will take time of course. You will have to introduce solid foods gradually, keep him on a soft diet, lots of water. Without the object inserted, his rectum is already starting to contract. Over time, as they resume natural function, the internal muscles will tighten down automatically. He will regain control over his bowels again. The human body is infinitely elastic. His sphincter muscles will regain their tightness, he may need to do Kegel exercises before resuming any sort of…. sexual activities.”

Dr. Shinji’s eyes flicked towards Asami’s face and he frowned at the thought. The idea of sex had not even entered his mind. Asami didn’t care if Akihito’s bottom never regained its former tightness.... just so long as the boy would be alright.

The doctor continued, “No more enemas. The body needs to begin cleaning itself again. Overly frequent enemas lead to lead to bowel function becoming compromised, lack of enzymes, destruction of the body's natural microflora, lack of electrolytes, dehydration and a myriad of other problems. The muscles have to be made to function on their own. That’s why I’m going to recommend the soft diet and stool softeners to get things moving again.”

“And his other injuries?”

“Other than the branding on his foot, all of his other injuries are relatively superficial. I can also see evidence of medical treatment. Many of the scrapes and welts have already had medicaments applied to prevent infection. The bruising will fade over time. In a month or two, you won’t be able to see any trace of the abuse. They injured him and then cared for those injuries meticulously. Whoever was doing this to him had no intention of disfiguring him. Not to say that they didn’t cause him tremendous amounts of pain, but they knew what they were doing and purposefully avoided wounding him at a subdermal level or causing scarring. Physically anyway....”

He sighed heavily, his voice trailing off.

Asami spoke the words they were both thinking, “But mentally?”

The doctor spoke slowly after a long moment of thought, “During World War One, it was recognized that everyone had a breaking point and that almost all soldiers would psychologically collapse, regress mentally and dissociate from reality if they were exposed to approximately forty days and forty nights of continuous, unending assault and threat. Even the ancients knew this, it was the basis of many crushing defeats that followed long sieges. The mind protects itself from trauma, pulling into itself like a turtle in a shell. In some ways, it is an organism unto itself.….. and the truth is…. even today, we don’t understand how it does what it does.”

Both men were silent for a long time, their thought interrupted by a nurses bringing a hot water bath and steaming hot towels. Asami immediately took over the task she was sent to perform, dismissing her quietly. He kept Akihito’s body covered as much as possible to protect what little modesty he had left. He wrapped one of the hot towels around Akihito’s chest and neck, letting him breathe in the steam. The boy sighed in unconscious pleasure and Asami smiled sadly, stroking his temples with the back of his knuckles. He gently began to give him a sponge bath as the doctor stood and adjusted the intravenous flow, removing the sedative but continuing the saline drip.

“Asami-sama. I’m so sorry. I know what he means to you and I… I’m just so sorry. I know you would like me to continue his care. He’s familiar with me and more likely to feel comfortable with me…. I understand that, but I’m not a psychiatrist. We need to be prepared for the worst. The kind of trauma he has been through. Nature sees to it that the strong as well as the weak retreat when they are traumatized. And neither of us have ever suffered under the delusion that Akihito was ever strong. The odds have been stacked against his mental stability from the day he was born. Trauma is commonly associated with dissociation, a concept you are already well aware of… but the far end of a dissociative episode is a psychotic break. People often see psychosis as a disease in itself, but it is not. It is simply a symptom of a disease, much like pain is a symptom of injury, but not the injury itself.”

Asami’s eyes were cold and distant, a part of him refusing to believe the doctor’s words. Refusing to accept them.

He stepped closed and forced his childhood friend to acknowledge him, “Ryuichi, you have to be prepared. He had been severely traumatized. His mind has been injured. There will be symptoms. When he wakes… he most likely won’t be the Akihito you knew anymore. The chance of him waking in a psychosis is almost certain with this kind of trauma. His mind will have protected itself by breaking from reality. He may suffer hallucinations, delusions; seeing, hearing and believing things that aren’t real. He may not know who you are or even who he is. He may have to be restrained. He may wake with violent tendencies and with his history of self-harm and self-mutilation…. you must be prepared, for anything.”

He looked for a long time into his eyes, until Asami finally relented, “I am. Thank you Kuroda. I understand your concerns.. but still, I wish you to treat him. He knows you, you have known him since he was young. That is an advantage no psychiatrist will have.”

Dr. Shinji shook his head, pressing his glasses up, “You know I would do anything for you sir, but I would highly advise you to bring in a psychiatrist, one who specializes in these things.”

Asami’s fingers ghosted protectively over Akihito’s forehead again, “If it becomes necessary, I will.”

The doctor nodded, accepting the small victory. He walked to the door, “Call me, as soon as he wakes.”

Asami nodded and Kuroda closed the door behind him. Once the doctor was gone, he slid the blankets off Akihito’s lower body and bathed him, gently removing all the dirt and grime, making sure that he was as clean as he could possibly be. When he was done, he noticed the saline drip was empty and gently withdrew the IV from his tiny wrist. He removed it for the same reason he had not allowed the nurse to place a catheter, for fear that it might frighten Akihito when he woke up. He took one of the soft adult diapers from the pile she had left by the bed and tucked it under the boy’s bottom. He pulled the front and back of the diaper up before fastening the tape attached to the backside of the diaper onto the front of the diaper. Then, he positioned Akihito’s delicate genitals and repeated it on the other side, closing the diaper around his waist. Asami then laid him on his side, curled up in fetal position with a pillow placed under his sleeping head. Akihito sighed in his sleep as Asami’s fingers drifted over his back, rubbing it in gentle circles.

There was a second bed in the room, placed next to Akihito’s. He knew it had been brought in for him. There was an armchair as well, placed on the other side of the hospital bed.

The large man chose neither.

He pressed kiss after kiss to Akihito’s sleeping face, covering his bare head and temples and gaunt cheeks, “You won’t be alone ever again. I promise.” He repositioned the small boy, carefully avoiding crushing him as he lay down in the narrow bed beside him. He didn’t want him to wake alone. He wanted him to wake in his arms, safe and protected.

All through the night, Asami laid beside him, face to face, speaking to him gently. He told him bedtime stories and stroked the soft skin of Akihito’s head, feeling the faint hint of downy peachfuzz that was already starting to grow. He told him how sorry he was for lying and how sad he was for the mistakes he made. Over and over he vowed his love and finally, when all had been said, in the wee hours of the morning, Asami finally slept. One hand was intertwined with Akihito’s in the dark and the other rested on the boy’s thin chest. Asami could not sleep without the reassurance of that tiny movement, up and down, reminding him all night long, that his beloved baby boy still lived.

And, in the darkness, Akihito was not alone. Not for a single second.

-


	52. When the Wind blows...

He woke to a strange, soft, slurping sound.

It was a hauntingly familiar sound. One he had not heard in a long, long time.

Asami opened his eyes and found himself looking into Akihito’s curious gaze. In the clear light of morning, his beautiful blue eyes were like the sky on a radiant summer morning. They were not the blank, empty, dead eyes of the night before. There was a clarity in them that took his breath away. A bright radiance he had despaired when he thought it lost.

And yet…. his thumb was in his mouth. Akihito sucked it just as he had when he was a small boy.

A tingle of fear raced down his spine and the words Kuroda had spoken rang in his ears. He had to be prepared, for anything… His hand came down carefully on the back of the boy’s naked head and he stroked the soft downy skin on the back of his scalp, waiting to see what Akihito would do. Without his hair, his eyes looked impossibly large, his long eyelashes winging from the tips. He was still, so beautiful. And so, so thin.

Asami’s palm cupped his cheek and was rewarded when those lashes lowered and Akihito nuzzled against his hand like a contented kitten.

He spoke words carefully, “Hello Akihito”

That little thumb slipped wetly from between his plush lips and he mumbled shyly into Asami’s chest, “Hi Daddy.”

With those two words, he felt the air escape his lungs in a great relieved exhale. He had been unaware he was holding his breath. Though he had refused to accept it…. just the idea that Akihito might not know who he was, had utterly terrified him.

Even still…. something was wrong. Akihito hadn’t sucked his thumb since he was six years old. And his voice, it had been a high soprano, like a child’s.

He pushed himself upright in the bed, gently tugging Akihito into the nook of his side. His heart ached at how light he was, that he could hardly feel that precious weight at all, even as the boy leaned against him. One strong wind and he might blow away. Asami would make sure that didn’t happen. He would be Akihito’s shield. He would protect him from all the winds that might howl around him. Except those he couldn’t. Those in Akihito’s mind.

Anxiety curled in Asami’s stomach even as Akihito snuggled against him in a way he hadn’t since childhood, his forehead tucked into the crook of Asami’s body. His dark lashes fanned peacefully against his pale cheeks as he continued to suck his thumb, softly slurping on the digit in his mouth. Asami stroked his back, tugging the covers over his thin body and hugging him tightly.

“How do you feel honey?”

The boy gave a tiny shrug of his delicate shoulder but said nothing.

“Are you hungry?”

He nodded, showing a bit of enthusiasm. Asami smiled at that. Of course his boy was hungry.

He reached over and pushed the call button, paging Dr. Kuroda and ordering food…. and a bottle. Just in case. He watched Akihito warily as they waited. The boy said nothing. Nothing at all. Which was almost as disturbing as the thumb sucking. Akihito was not known for being quiet. Unless he was very tired, or in pain.

“Akihito, sweetheart, are you in pain? Are you hurting anywhere?”

He shifted uncomfortably and spoke so softly it was hard to hear him, “My bottom hurts.”

Asami’s chest throbbed and he took a sharp inhale at the pain in his heart. He kissed Akihito’s forehead and clutched him even tighter, “I know. I know precious. I’m so sorry. Its going to get better, I promise.”

The boy nodded and then squirmed uncomfortably again. Asami felt his bottom with his free hand and realized it wasn’t just his injuries making him uncomfortable. He could feel the coolness of the back of the diaper, belying the wetness inside. “Oh.”

He lifted him gently and moved to get up from the bed and Akihito clutched at his neck in fear, as if he thought he was going to leave. Asami kissed his temple, “Ssshhh Princess, its alright. Im not going anywhere.”

Eyes filled with worry tracked him as he moved about the room, gathering a bowl of warm water, a towel, anti-irritation cream and a fresh diaper. Akihito’s eyes didn’t leave Asami, not even for a second. His thumb popped back into his mouth as Asami wrapped his giant hands around his tiny waist and positioned him on his back on the bed. He watched Asami expectantly as he spread his thin legs and lifted his bottom, pressing the clean dry towel underneath his buttocks. Then Asami ripped open the wet diaper and pulled it off the boy’s loins, careful to keep the copious fluids inside. Akihito lay there, submissively sucking his thumb, watching Asami with large luminous eyes.

It disturbed him.

Akihito had become very shy about his genitals in his teens, he always blushed and tried to cover himself when Asami exposed his privates. This time, Akihito just lay there, like he was helpless, completely naked, with his legs spread. There was not a hint of shame or embarrassment in his eyes. It reminded him of a young child who doesn’t understand nakedness or sexuality. A baby.

The wound on his chest pulled painfully, but he didn’t have time to linger. Kuroda would be there soon and he didn’t know how Akihito would react to him. He smiled comfortingly, ignoring the anxiety curling in his gut. Akihito grinned back innocently around his thumb in his mouth. He whimpered at the cold touch of the moist towelette Asami used to clean him, but sighed in relief as he swabbed soothing ointment over his abused hole. Asami had to grit his teeth in anger, but he refused to let Akihito see it. He quickly had him into a fresh clean diaper and then pulled off his own undershirt and rucked it over Akihito’s head to cover his nakedness.

He giggled as his head and arms were enveloped in soft white cotton. It was still warm from Asami’s skin. Akihito's fingers plucked at the fabric now covering him in confusion, as if he was unsure of what it was.... As if he had forgotten what it was like to wear clothing.

Asami refused to think about that. He pulled on the slacks and dress shirt from the previous day and then lifted Akihito with his hands under his arms.

He grinned and tried to keep his voice lighthearted, “Upsey Daisy!”

Akihito grinned back and then settled comfortably into his lap at the table. The T-shirt hung over his narrow shoulders but it covered him to mid thigh. Which was not nearly enough. His long shapely legs were still fully exposed. Asami grabbed a blanket and covered his lower body completely just as someone knocked on the door.

“Enter” he said distractedly as Akihito startled at the loud noise and tried to crawl out of his lap. The boy was still wiggling and trying to make his escape as Kuroda entered. He could feel his pulse beginning to race, little shivers of fears starting to shake his tiny frame.

“Its ok baby, its ok. Its just Dr. Shinji, you remember him?”

Akihito shook his head adamantly where it was tucked into Asami’s side as Akihito tried to burrow under his armpit.

“Yes you do. He’s here to help you. And look, he brought breakfast.”

The boy’s eyes lit up at the food on the tray Kuroda was carrying. There were several soft puddings and oatmeals as well as a bottle of milk. The boy grabbed the bottle almost as soon as it was in reach and began hungrily slurping it through the rubber nipple.

Kuroda watched him for a moment, the questions in his eyes twinning Asami’s. Neither man spoke as he took his seat. Akihito watched him warily as he pressed himself tightly against Asami and drank his milk.

Kuroda’s eyes met Asami’s and read the worry there. The boy was acting very strangely.

He spoke soothingly, “Hello Akihito.”

Long lashes flickered over his eyes as he tried to withdraw. Asami nudged him gently, “Say hello to the doctor my good boy.”

A flicker of fear passed over Akihito’s face and he obeyed quickly, “Hello Doctor.”

“How are you feeling?”

It was too complicated a question. Kuroda realized as soon as he asked it. Akihito’s eyes clouded over and he nervously shrugged his shoulders, his eyes flickering to Asami in fear as he failed to answer the question. Asami ran his hand soothingly over his back,

Kuroda pulled back, “How was your milk?”

He burped softly, “S-good”

“Are you still hungry?”

Akihito nodded his head, looking mournfully at the now empty bottle.

Kuroda pointed at the oatmeal, nudging the spoon closer to him, “Why don’t you try some porridge?”

Akihito’s fingers clumsily folded over the spoon handle, holding it more like a stick than a spoon. He dipped it into the mushy oats and pulled it out. He dropped most of the porridge on his shirt and chin during the process of moving it to his mouth. Asami moved quickly to help him and clean him up, but Kuroda shook his head, “Let him do it.”

Akihito smiled at the sweet cinnamon taste of the porridge and went for another bite. He maneuvered the spoon incredibly awkwardly, making more of a mess on himself and the table than actually getting any into his mouth. It was as if he had never used an eating utensils before. There was not a trace of his formerly immaculate table manners. But he seemed happy enough. And more importantly, the task seemed to distract him from his shyness and anxiety.

Kuroda began again, “So Akihito, what did you do yesterday?”

Asami tensed, remembering the previous day’s horror. The coffin and the dark, the dungeon and Akihito, screaming and screaming and screaming…..

He hummed happily, digging into the porridge and then licking the spoon, “Drew a pit-chure.”

“Oh, what was the picture of?”

The boy frowned in concentration, “Princess and a Dragon. Used lossa glitter.”

Asami stared at him in confusion. Kuroda seemed to take it all in stride. “I bet it was really pretty.”

He nodded. He had given up on the spoon and was using his hands to scoop up the porridge and was messily sucking it off his fingers.

“What else did you do?”

Akihito sucked on his pointer finger as he thought. He didn’t take it out when he answered so his speech was somewhat slurred, “Made fwuit bunniess and played with dollesh. And danced wif Daddy!” He giggled, his eyes turning in to two pretty halfmoons when he glanced shyly up at Asami.

He spoke just like a little boy, his voice high and soft. Kuroda nodded in understanding, “How old are you Akihito?”

“Thwee” He held up three of his porridge covered fingers to show how many he was.

Asami sucked in a breath and Akihito cried out as his strong arms contracted, squeezing his waist painfully.

“Owwie Daddy!”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He apologized and then withdrew a handkerchief and began to shakily clean Akihito’s sticky fingers. His hands were trembling so hard it nearly made the task impossible.

“S-okay Daddy” He said softly and submitted to Asami’s efforts to clean off the oatmeal on his face and shirt. In the meantime, Kuroda waved over a nurse. Asami stood, depositing Akihito back into the hospital bed with a kiss on his forehead. Blue eyes looked anxiously up at him and Asami gently untwined the small fingers that were clinging onto his dress shirt, “This nice lady is going to watch over you Akihito. Daddy needs to talk to the Doctor for a few minutes alone.”

Akihito nodded but as soon as Asami got one hand free, the other grabbed ahold of his shirt again. He had to grab both little hands in one of his. He tipped Akihito’s chin up, “I’m not going far, I’ll just be right outside.”

He whispered softly, “Daddy, please don’t go. Please Daddy?”

“Just for a minute honey, I’ll be right back.”

His lower lip began to tremble and Asami kissed it, “I promise, I’ll be right back.”

He was acutely aware of Akihito’s eyes on him but he turned his back and walked away slowly. As soon as he disappeared from view, Akihito began to scream; ear piercing, earth shattering screams of pure desperation and terror.

Asami turned immediately and flew back to his side, holding him and trying to calm him down, but Akihito was inconsolable. The boy screamed the same words over and over again until his throat bulged, his fingers clutching at the bedding as he writhed out of control, slamming the back of his head against the headboard until Kuroda was forced to sedate him.

The words he cried so desperately broke Asami’s heart in two.

_Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me._

-


	53. The Cradle will Rock

The boy was sleeping peacefully now, his beautiful face thin and serene in the low light of the hospital room. The curtains were drawn and the door was closed. Kuroda looked down at his lifelong friend. He seemed to have aged ten years in the past hour. He sat at Akihito’s bedside, cupping one small hand in his. His dark head was bowed and his eyes were filled with anguish.

Kuroda sat across from him and patiently waited for Asami to compose his thoughts.

“Where do we go from here?”

The hopelessness he heard in his voice alerted Kuroda to just how close Asami was to despair.

He shook his head, “Its not as bad as it seems.”

Golden eyes hot with anger and pain glared at him, “How is this not as bad as it seems?!”

“I know. I know. But you have to understand, for someone who has been through an extremely traumatic event, this is actually somewhat normal behavior.”

Asami snorted angrily, running his finger through his dark hair in frustration, “Normal? He thinks he is three years old!”

Kuroda sighed and leaned forward, capturing Asami’s gaze with his own, “Its called regression. And yes. Its normal. Dissociation is a common, naturally occurring defense against trauma. Faced with overwhelming abuse, can you blame him for psychologically running away from the full awareness of his experience? In some ways, Ryuichi, this is a blessing. He is displaying all the classic signs of Dissociative Amnesia and Dissociative Fugue. Amnesia meaning that he cannot recall the traumatic events. Fugue meaning that he has assumed a new identity…. "

He paused and retracted the last part of that sentence, "Actually, not a new identity in this case…. an old one.”

Understanding flared in Asami’s eyes, “His old identity… as a child?”

“Yes, exactly. His three year old self. It is extremely common to encounter psychological regression. It is so common that it is often readily apparent in observing friends and co workers over time. You’ll often see women regressing to using baby talk during stressful situations with significant others or men returning from war returning to adolescent male activities; excessive drinking, playing games, lacking interest in commitments to work and their spouses generally childlike behaviour. Almost everyone does it to some extent, without even realizing what they are doing….. All psychological regression really means is that a person reverts to an earlier developmental behaviour when faced with a new challenge or under stress. Traumatic life events can cause the child to become ‘stuck’ at a particular level of psychological development for an extended period of time. For example, an eleven year old child who was abandoned by her primary caregiver at age four may throw a tantrum similar to what one might expect of a four year old when left with an unfamiliar baby-sitter. In other words, when faced with similar circumstances, she will regress behaviourally to the developmental stage at which she was originally traumatized.”

Asami frowned, “Akihito was separated from his mother at three years of age….”

“It fits the model perfectly. Akihito was subjected to intense stress, obviously thought he had been abandoned by you, his primary caregiver, and so he reacted by regressing to the same age that he was when he was separated from his mother.”

He shook his head, “But this isn’t just behavior. He seems to truly believe he is three years old.”

Kuroda nodded sharply, “You are correct. Thats where the dissociation comes in. As some point during or after the trauma was inflicted on him, his mind rejected his reality. We have all experienced mild dissociation, which is like daydreaming and losing time on a long roadtrip, realizing at the end of it that you can’t remember the drive at all. However, dissociative identity disorder is a severe form of dissociation, a mental process which produces a lack of connection in a person's thoughts, memories, and  sense of identity. It is simply a coping mechanism; a complex and chronic posttraumatic psychopathology closely related to severe, particularly early abuse. The victim literally dissociates himself or herself from a situation or experience that's too violent, traumatic, or painful to assimilate with their conscious self. And so their sense of self literally breaks in two. Dissociative identity disorder is characterized by the presence of two or more distinct or split identities-”

Asami interrupted, “So you are saying that Akihito has a split personality, one of which is his three year old self?”

“Precisely. Dissociative Identity Disorder was formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder, it is a condition in which a person has more than one distinct personality states, which alternate within the individual's conscious awareness. The different personality states usually have distinct names, identities, temperaments, self-image and most especially, _memories_. They share the body, but _not_ the mind. When one personality takes over, it will have no memory or awareness of the other.”

It was difficult to wrap his mind around it, “So eighteen year old Akihito still remembers everything, but this three year old Akihito does not.”

Kuroda nodded again, “Which is exactly why ‘Little’ Akihito is in control of his consciousness. On a subconscious level, Akihito has chosen this. He no longer wishes to remember his present. He does not wish to be an adult. He wants to forget his pain and to be a child, to feel safe and taken care of again.”

“Is this like Schizophrenia?”

Kuroda shook his head vehemently, “No. Schizophrenia and Multiple Personality Disorder have been linked in popular culture, but they are two completely separate pathologies. The association is mostly due to poor choice in naming. Shizophrenia literally means 'split mind', but it is not that at all. It is more a 'disordered' mind. Schizophrenia is when a person suffers from false beliefs, confused thinking, hallucinations and cannot distinguish between that and reality. They do not suffer from multiple personalities, but rather delusions such as voices speaking to them that no one else can hear. It seems to be more chemical and genetic in nature than environmental although no one really knows what causes it. It has been mildly linked with trauma, but does not have the direct correlation to trauma that Multiple Personality Disorder seems to have.”

Asami nodded distractedly, losing focus, his eyes straying back to the boy in the bed.

Dr. Shinji called him by his first name to bring him back, “What you need to understand, Ryuichi, is that this is not an act on his part. He’s not pretending. Akihito genuinely believes he is three years old, heart and soul. His mind still remembers the thought patterns, actions and behaviors of his three year old self. It has blocked his access to the last fifteen years and trapped him in that earlier state. He has no awareness of having ever been older than that. Those memories do still exist, but Akihito does not have access to them in this personality.”

“How can we make him remember? Make him return to himself?”

“You can’t make him remember and at this point, trying to force him to, may do him more harm than good. I know you want him back Asami, but you need to think about what is best for Akihito right now. He’s so fragile; emotionally and physically. Just getting his body well is going to be a long journey. He’s not even able to walk on his own. He is going to need constant care and physical therapy. His body needs to recover before we can even consider starting therapy on his mind.”

Asami’s voice was filled with disbelief, “So you are saying you want me to just…. leave him like this? Accept his delusions? Won’t that just reinforce them?”

“Not necessarily. Akihito desperately needs to feel safe right now. That may even be all he needs to come out of this psychosis. He is going to have to choose to WANT to be himself again. Right now, the best advice I can give you, is just to love him, as he is. Give him a safe place to land.”

“Of course I will.”

“You say that, but do you really understand what this is going to require of you? He’s also suffering from severe separation anxiety, as evident by his extreme panic attack when you left the room. I would say that his biggest fear in the world right now is that you will LEAVE him. Which means Ryuichi, that for now, you cannot leave his side. You are going to have to spend every waking moment with him for the time being, helping to reestablish a sense of stability and security.”

Kuroda let that sink in for a moment and then continued, “And he is three years old again, going through all the difficult struggles with establishing his sense of self and identity that all toddlers go through. Its an incredibly difficult age; you can’t reason with a three year old, but under no circumstances can you administer physical punishment on Akihito. Any kind of violence, especially from your hand, could risk a deepening of his trauma, pushing him further into his Little mindset.”

The sacrifice was irrelevant to Asami, “Whatever it takes. I am prepared to do. To make him well, I would burn the world to the ground, give my life and all that I am.”

There was no question in Kuroda’s mind that he meant every word.... And that he may very well have to sacrifice all of those things before this was over.

“I know you would Asami. Just know that… you may not be able to fix this. And certainly not anytime soon. It is not uncommon for sufferers of Dissociative Identity Disorders to need up to five years of intensive therapy work to conquer it…. there’s no easy or quick fix to this.”

“It doesn’t matter how long it takes… I won’t give up on him. I’ll never give up.”

Asami’s gaze was sharp, focused and determined and even Kuroda was not able to sustain eye contact for long. He nodded, not knowing what else to say.

They were quiet for a long moment before he spoke again, “The girl is just down the hall.”

Asami was ashamed to admit he had not even spared a thought for her, “Do we know who she is yet?”

“Yes, her name is Momohara Ai. She was actually a former child star and model. One of the nurses identified her before we even had to begun to search the databases of missing children. It was a high profile case, two years ago, her disappearance was all over the news.”

“How is she?”

“Still unconscious. We have run every diagnostic we can think of. Physically, she is in good health, other than severe malnutrition. According to official records, she is the same age as Akihito, but much like him, looks much younger. There is no hint of brain injury or any other physiological reason for her to be unconscious and nonresponsive. The coma appears to be entirely psychogenic.”

“A pyschogenic coma?”

“Yes, it is extremely rare, the furthest end of the dissociative spectrum, when the mind not only figuratively dissociates from reality but literally as well. It is subjected to a horror so great and terrible that the only way the mind sees to protect itself is by simply…. turning off.”

Asami shook his head, the horrors of the basement flashing in his mind, “Fucking hell. Two years. She was with them for two fucking years?” His heart broke for her, “Does she have any family?”

Kuroda shook his head sadly, “No. Died in a car accident a few months ago. They never knew what happened to her.”

“I want her to have the very best care. I will take care of everything.”

“I thought you might feel that way. I’ve have taken over her case personally. She does have injuries to her genitalia consistent with regular and repeated forceful intercourse. Once those heal and she is better nourished, we are considering administered an antipsychotic to attempt to rouse her from the coma…. but before we do that, I need to ask you, what do you know about what they went through, down there? And the men who did this to them… why?”

Asami sneered, his gaze dark and foreboding, “Does a rabid dog have reasons?”

Kuroda knew to tread carefully, “Have you considered that Akihito’s regression may not have simply been the result of the torture…. but possibly the entire purpose of the torture?”

That got his full attention.

“Consider his injuries and physical modifications…. His palms and knees are scraped and bruised, while his feet, despite the brand, are in pristine condition. That tells me he was forced to crawl and not allowed to walk upright. They shaved his head and only fed him liquids. He was put in a diaper and his bowels were stretched to make it so he had no control over them. These things don’t seem random to me. They seem purposeful. Like they were trying to force Akihito to regress and then when he did, they reinforced those behaviors. And if that is the case….. the recovery may even be more difficult.”

Asami ran his fingers through his hair, dishevelling it even more as he swore vehemently under his breath.

“We need to know what they did to them down there. To Akihito and to the girl. We need to know so that we can approach their therapy appropriately and avoid any potential triggers that might exacerbate their psychoses. Without knowing how this was done to them, we run the risk of unintentionally making things worse. We need more information.”

Asami stood abruptly, moving across the room and shouldering his holsters. The barrel of each gun was flipped open to ensure a round was in the chamber and then coldly clicked closed. He pulled his suitcoat on over the sinister gleaming metal.

“Stay with him, Kuroda. Make sure he does not wake until I get back. I will return as soon as I am able.”

He bowed his head, “Of course Ryuichi, but, where are you going?”

“To find out what they did.”

-


	54. When the Bough Breaks....

Asami had the expected torture dungeon in the back room of club Sion.

It was dark and dank and dirty and filled with rusted blades. It smelled like old dried blood. It was absolutely filthy. But that was all part of its charm. The ‘dungeon’ was more for effect than anything; straight out of a horror film and fantastic as an interrogation room. It terrified those unfortunates who found themselves inside it, often to the point that they broke the minute the questions started, needing nothing more than their own imaginations to push them over the edge.

The dungeon was not the place Asami used when he truly wished to torture someone. The basement underneath the club was where he did that. It was well lit, neatly organized and clean to the point of pristine. The walls and floors gleamed under fluorescent lights, as did the surgical tools and operating tables. It reeked of hospital grade disinfectant. There was no risk of infection here. Asami made sure of that. That was much too easy of a way to go.

The ‘operating room’ was the last stop for all those that had crossed Asami or betrayed him. It was here they met their end. And it was never easy.

But Asami had already decided that any ‘end’ at all was too good for Takeshi and Yuri. He wanted them both to live long and healthy lives and he had hired a talented doctor as their caregiver to make very sure they did. Dr. Yamazaki had been a prominent trauma surgeon at one point who had slowly descended into madness. Most surgeons were inherently predisposed to be psychopaths, it was part of what helped them do their jobs well. All the term psychopath really meant was that a person lacked empathy; they had a diminished ability to share or understand the feelings of others. Which was exactly what enabled surgeons to do the nasty things they had to do to their patients to make them well again. Most didn’t dwell overly much on their mistakes or bad outcomes. They remained objective, even when slicing a child’s belly open. They remained cool under pressure and did not panic, even while a mother of three was bleeding out under their knife. Most psychopaths were in fact, productive and important members of society. They were the kind of people that others would want around in time of a crisis. Very few turned into the ‘psychos’ that were popularized in movies and novels. It took mental instability, sadism, poor impulse control and a strong desire for violence for most psychopaths to turn into murderers.

Dr. Yamazaki was just such a creature.

He had risen quite quickly due to his talents and skills as a surgeon. But it wasn’t his desire to heal that had attracted the psychopath to his profession. It was the blood and the fear and the pain. He got off on the screams of the injured.

The survival rate of his patients fell as his mental stability decreased. What was unusual about their deaths was that they were all incredibly painful. His work was subtle, the injuries he inflicted during surgery were impossible to detect but they led to slow, agonizing deaths of his patients while the other doctors worked themselves into a frenzy trying to figure out what was wrong. Meanwhile Dr. Yamazaki, who knew what was wrong, kept the patient alive as long as possible. He looked like a savior, but was in fact simply a sadist, prolonging their pain. And he was very, very good at it.

Which made him perfect for Asami’s purposes.

He had finally been caught, of course and sentenced to life in prison, leaving his daughter, the one person in the entire world he loved, alone in an orphanage.

Asami had had his eye on Dr. Yamazaki for a while. The man had been very, very good at what he did and Asami always had a use for natural talent. The guards of Sugamo prison were already on his payroll and breaking him out of prison was as easy as checking him out of a hotel in downtown Tokyo. On Asami's orders, Kirishima had made the doctor an offer he couldn’t refuse. Asami would take care of the doctor’s daughter, make sure her every need was met, keeping her out of an orphanage and making sure she wanted for nothing for the rest of her natural life. In exchange, all the doctor had to do was make Takeshi and Yuri’s daily existence as _excruciatingly_ painful as possible. The only catch was, the day either Yuri or Takeshi died, that was also the day, Dr. Yamazaki would be returned to prison.

Another wonderful thing about psychopaths was their propensity to be very reward-driven. If they see a benefit in something, they zone in on it and they commit themselves completely. And the brilliant surgeon was very, very committed. He had already settled into his little apartment next to the ‘operating room’ that would be his home for the rest of his natural life. He would never leave. But then, he did not desire to. He had been very poorly suited to a life in prison and knew he was even more ill-suited to a life on the run. Here, Dr. Yamazaki knew he would want for nothing and he was finally free to fulfill every sadistic fantasy he had ever had on his two unwilling ‘roommates’. The knowledge that their deaths would result in the termination of his employment was quite the challenge and he knew it would force him to get very creative in his methods.

He smiled wide when he saw his new boss making his way into the operating room. His 'parlor' as he had come to think of it; where he entertained his guests. His two roommates were already tied and strapped onto twin operating tables, he had spent the morning installing intravenous ports in their subclavians so he could administer fluids, drugs and antibiotics as needed. It was normally a pretty painless procedure, when done properly. Dr. Yamazaki, as always, made sure it was as painful as possible. Same on the catheter insertion.

Takeshi had passed out far too soon. Pathetic really, but he should have expected that. Deep down, sadists feared pain more than anyone. Their desire to hurt others was deeply rooted in this fear. They were often products of abuse, who remembered their own pain and helplessness in vivid detail. They were the bullied who later turned into bullies themselves. By inflicting pain on others, they felt less alone and were able to psychologically transfer their own feelings onto their victims. They felt vindicated, that they were dispensing justice and making the world fairer. But most of all they felt powerful; temporarily effacing their own tormented memories of being helpless and hurt by passing those feelings on to others.

This is how internet trolls were born; psychopathic sadists that enjoyed hurting others anonymously, for no other purpose than to pleasure themselves. They loved to throw out vicious comments (rarely their own genuine opinions, most simply parroting what they know would anger others the most) on public forums as bait to see what unassuming people they could lure into their trap, so that they might further inflame, insult and bully them for their own amusement. They showed no interest in making friends or participating meaningfully in any debate, only in sowing discord and arousing anger and pain in others. And though everyone agreed that there was nothing in the world more foolish than responding to trolls on the internet, because every response constituted a reward for their behavior, many psychologists actually felt that it served an important function by allowing them a relatively harmless outlet for their sadistic tendencies and kept them from lashing out in their real lives. Which was true. Most internet trolls were quite satisfied to jab their pointy sticks at society from the safety, privacy and anonymity of their computer keyboards….. And by occasionally cutting off people in traffic, taking candy from babies and kicking puppies.

The majority of sadists were simply what polite society referred to as 'assholes'.

But Takeshi and Yuri and Dr. Yamazaki were sadists of a different breed. They were sadists infused with that unique blend of insanity and rapacious lust for the suffering of others that turned them into not only murderers, but serial killers, rapists, necrophiles and fiends.

Dr. Yamazaki had never felt more at home. He finally had companions that truly understood him as he was. And victims he knew would feel his pain more exquisitely than any that had come before them.

But first Takeshi needed to wake up. He were being quite rude to their guest.

The good doctor contemplated how best to accomplish it, he wanted to show off a bit for his new employer, as it was their first meeting.

The catheter he had placed in both men was very, very large. It had been incredibly painful to insert. It was a little thicker than a pencil and the tube was hollow in the middle to direct the expulsion of urine into the catheter bags. The portion that was inside their urinary tracts however was capable of being disconnected from the rest of the tubing and allowed Dr. Yamazaki to also introduce fluids to their urinary tract and bladders.

Earlier that day, he had performed a medical procedure called a bladder wash-out on Yuri. In the hospital it was used to cleanse infected bladders and flush out bacteria. It was somewhat like an enema except in the front rather than the back. But while he had inflated Yuri’s bladder to the point of painful distention, he had then clamped the end of the hose shut so he could not expel the fluid. The cayenne pepper he had added to the sterile saline made it feel to Yuri like his bladder had literally been lit on fire. He had left him like that for hours. Dr. Yamazaki was amazed at how loud the mute was actually able to scream when he really put his mind to it. He had then removed the catheter and allowed the man to relieve himself naturally, during which he essentially had pissed that burning fire down through his penis and coated the inside of his urethra with the hot pepper as well. And then Dr. Yamazaki had reinserted the thick catheter into his tortured canal and left him like that.

As much as he might have wished he wasn’t, Yuri was wide awake, his grey eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling as white hot pain continued to emanate from his groin. Every now and then he moaned. Takeshi had a similar catheter inserted, but Dr. Yamazaki had yet to put it to good use.

Asami’s cold golden eyes tracked the doctor as he strode across the parlor, his white coat crisp and clean and professional as he lifted the cattleprod from his rack of tools. Yuri and Takeshi had quite the collection of toys. Dr. Yamazaki was grateful Asami had shared them with him. Some were quite ingenious. The cattleprod had a rubber attachment that screwed on the tip of it. It was called a flex-shaft. It was thin, made mostly of a single wire encased in rubber, except for the prongs at the end, and was about six inches long. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the diabolical little device was actually intended for but he had a rather brilliant plan for it.

He attached it to the head of the cattleprod and then roughly inserted it down through Takeshi’s catheter tube, directly into his bladder. He stopped when he felt the flesh of the back wall resisting. The Doctor paused for a moment, relishing the knowledge that he was about to send 5,000 volts of electricity directly into a live human’s bladder. The burns would be horrific. They would heal, the lining of the bladder was thick and used to being subjected to highly caustic urea. It would turn over quickly. But until then, the pain would be quite something…. and every time the bladder was stretched and filled with urine, it would scald the burns anew.

Dr. Yamazaki grinned and almost pressed the button and then he frowned, realizing that he was being quite rude. Whatever else he was, he had always taken pride in his impeccable manners.

He turned and bowed politely, graciously offering the handle of the cattleprod to Asami, “Please, guests must go first.”

He took it without hesitation, and pressed the button, the extension of the probe delivering intense electric shocks directly into Takeshi’s urethra and waking him instantly.

Asami waited until his screams died down before politely handing it back to Dr. Yamazaki, as politely as a dinner guest passing back the serving spoon after taking his portion. The Doctor was impressed. Asami stood back and watched as Dr. Yamazaki looked into Takeshi’s terrified eyes, waiting patiently until the white hot pain died down and grotesque little man realized where he was, what the Doctor was holding, where it was inserted and what he was about to do with it. Again.

He began to beg and plead pathetically. It was amazing how fear and pain turned just about everyone back into children.

Dr. Yamazaki pretended to put his finger on the button and press it, toying with him, enjoying how Takeshi's lips clenched in reaction. He wondered how many people Takeshi had used the cattleprod on. He wondered if he had taunted them the same way. Did he really think his begging would have any effect on his own kindred? Takeshi was making quite the fool of himself with his pleading.

He spoke calmly to the other sadist, “You know how this is going to play out, brother. You know very well how your pleading excites me. You know that its not a matter of ‘if’ I’m going to press this button, but rather when, and for how long.”

Takeshi knew all of this well indeed. Dr. Yamazaki smiled the moment it dawned in his eyes that he was not in the hands of a normal rational person with an aversion to hurting others, but rather one of his own kind; a monster of the darkest sort, whose hunger for pain and suffering was matched only by his ability to inflict it on others.

The Doctor let the realization sink in and then pressed the button. And not just once. He did it over and over again, intermittently. Sometimes acting as if he was going to withdraw it and then viciously slamming it home yet again.

It was beautiful the way the quadriplegic could not move to escape his pain. He could not even jerk or pull against the restraints. The only movement of his body were the muscles convulsing and contracting in his abdomen, stimulated by the voltage, not by Takeshi’s will. Of all his patients, none had been quite so helpless as this. It was quite the beautiful medical miracle that though Takeshi’s motor functions were gone, his sensory perception was fully intact. He felt everything.

Takeshi screamed and he screamed, gnashing his teeth and biting his tongue until it bled while Asami looked on, his golden eyes glowing in approval. The last time the doctor kept the button depressed for nearly thirty seconds and then withdrew the hellish probe.

“Thats about all, I think, without causing grievous injury.” He said pleasantly to Asami.

The other man nodded in understanding, “Impressive doctor. I can see I’ve chosen well.”

The Doctor smiled politely. It was always nice to have one’s talents recognized properly. He noticed Takeshi seemed like he was about to faint again so Dr. Yamazaki jammed the tip up his nasal passage and delivered a quick volt of electricity into his sinuses, almost directly to his brain.

“No, no.” He said conversationally, “We have a guest. And he would very much like to speak with you, Takaba-san”

He addressed his compatriot respectfully, though in truth, he did not respect him. Treating those around him politely had more to do with how he felt about himself. Good manners show that you respect yourself, more than anything. And the doctor had great respect for himself.

He activated a switch on the table that brought Takeshi to a more or less seated position so that he could face Asami properly while they spoke. Golden eyes were cool and detached as he viewed the broken monster. Takeshi had thought himself a Dragon, but all he really was, was smoke.

“Takeshi.” He acknowledged with a dip of his head.

“Ryuichi.” He slithered back, using his informal name in kind, as if they were equals.

“I trust you are finding your accommodations satisfactory. I should think you would feel quite at home here.” He opened his hands, gesturing to the racks upon racks of instruments used for inflicting horrific pain on living creatures.

Takeshi sneered, “Quite.”

Their eyes met for a moment and then Takeshi smiled chillingly “How is my little Otōto? Adjusting well I presume? How does he feel about being back in the loving arms of his adored Daddy?”

“Some minor difficulties. Nothing we can’t overcome.” He responded casually to the goading, flipping back the foot rest underneath Takeshi’s gnarled feet and shrunken calves. They hung off the table, unable to bend. He crooked his finger at the doctor and pointed to the tourniquets on one of the racks. It was one of the old ones, with a metal ring and a screw, nothing more than a clamp that could be fit around one’s limb. The doctor slipped it around his right ankle, careful not to tighten the vice down just yet. It wouldn’t do for his foot to go numb.

The doctor released the brakes on Takeshi’s table and rolled it over to sit in front of a large meat grinder, his toes just scant inches away from the blades.

It was in the corner, raised waist high for ease of access. It had been installed there long ago by Asami’s request. It was a high end, industrial electric grinder, turned on its side so that the meat could be fed into it from the side rather than the top. Asami flipped on the motor. It hummed almost silently. He knew it was capable of effortlessly grinding meat and bone alike, the man who sold it to him had boasted that it was capable of processing seven hundred and twenty pounds of pork per hour and nearly liquefying entire pigs on its finest grate setting. Perfect for sausage manufacturer’s. The salesman had not been lying. Which was very, very good for the him. It was certainly not the first time he had used it, the meat grinder was Asami’s preferred way of getting rid of a body. It was essentially like throwing a tree in a wood chipper, once the blades and gears got a hold of the flesh, it pulled the rest of the body right in.

Asami was going to be very, very careful to make sure that did _not_ happen today. He made sure the motor was on the lowest setting, the blades inside the machine glinting, slicing and dicing and moving individually instead of in a blur.

Takeshi’s black eyes stared into it with horrified fascination.

“I’m sure you must be hungry Takeshi. Aware of your dietary preferences, I made some arrangements for you to continue them here. Fresh meat, I believe, is your favorite.”

The words were mocking but there was no triumph in Asami’s voice. There was no joy in this for him. He continued, “Was that what you had planned for Akihito? Were you going to eat him too?”

Takeshi looked at him as if he were crazy. Which was ironic, all things considered.

Asami raised an eyebrow, “No? You ate all the others. Then what did you want Akihito for?”

His thin lips curled in a sneer, “Akihito wasn’t like the others. They were just pigs. Doesn’t matter how much lipstick you slap on a pig, its still a pig. They were all just pretending. But not Akihito. He was the real thing.”

“And what was that?”

Takeshi smiled fondly, “My precious baby brother. Mine. He was always mine and he’ll always be mine. Doesn’t matter what you do to me now. You’ll never get rid of me.”

Asami’s dark brow rose even higher, “This meat grinder says differently. All it would take is one little push and you’ll just be a puddle of blood, easily forgotten.”

Takeshi laughed like a hyena, high and hysterical, “You can’t get rid of me Asami. I’m inside him now. I’m in his head. I burrowed in so deep you’ll never get me out. Never.”

His strong jaw clenched and he backhanded Takeshi so hard he broke his jaw again from where it had already been set by Dr. Yamazaki. Takeshi still smiled up at him, his face lopsided as the bone sagged under the skin. The nerve to his lower lip was completely severed this time. It made him hard to understand, “He was a hard nut to crack. Give em that...”

The good side of Takeshi’s face smiled, “Just had to figured out what he was most afraid of, turns out… it was you. I really should thank you Asami, you made it so easy in the end. He broke so, so beautifully.”

Asami’s long fingers wrapped all the way around his thin neck, “What did you do to him?”

His iron clad control was slipping and Takeshi could see it. No matter what he did to him now, he had already won. Asami didn’t know it yet.....

But he _would_.

He choked the words out gleefully, “Memories are so important, aren’t they? They must be cherished. Family videos, Ryuichi, family videos. Precious memories preserved forever...”

He choked on the blood pooling in his mouth and began to cough. Asami had heard enough, he slammed his fist into his face once more, knocking him unconscious. Dr. Yamazaki handed him a surgical towel to clean his knuckles with. He gestured towards the meat grinder, “Once he wakes up, I want you to feed him. Six ounces of meat per day for Takeshi, Yuri gets eight. Start with his feet and legs, then move to his hands and arms.”

Dr. Yamazaki smiled. He was already looking forward to it, slowly feeding Takeshi and Yuri piece by piece into the grinder, turning their own arms and legs into the very meat that would sustain them, forcing them to cannibalize themselves. He hoped they put up a fight. He was quite looking forward to force feeding them their own flesh.

And that was just mealtimes.

In between, they had hours and hours to kill. Each day would bring a new pain and a new horror and opportunities to use his talents in new and exciting ways. It would be a challenge to keep them alive through such an ordeal, each day a new wound, grinding appendages down an inch at a time until the men were nothing but limbless torsos, continually leaving the flesh of the stumps raw and exposed and macerated. He would have to be careful not to let their wounds become infected. Oh yes, it would be quite a challenge, but one that the Good Doctor knew he was more than up for.

-


	55. The Cradle will Fall

“How long were you planning to keep them from me?”

Asami’s voice was calm. Too calm. Kirishima looked up from his desk, his face carefully blank, “Keep what from you sir?”

Golden eyes narrowed intensely, “Where are the videos Kirishima?”

“Turned over. Police evidence. They are using them to help identify the bodies.” He tried to focus on breathing in. Breathing out. Giving nothing away....

Asami missed nothing, “But not the ones of Akihito.”

It wasn’t a question.

Kirishima had never lied to Asami. He had never wanted to.

He did now.

Images of Akihito as he had been on the tapes flashed in his mind’s eye. The beautiful boy, confused and frightened and in agony, helpless, crying and screaming for Asami, begging him to take him home, to help him, to save him…. to stop hurting him. _Please Daddy, please!_

Bile churned in his stomach. He wanted to lie. He wanted to hide those tapes, burn them, bury them in the ground, throw them in the ocean where Asami could never find them. His life’s work was built around protecting Asami. And he knew nothing in the world could hurt him as badly as what was on those tapes. He had sworn his undying loyalty, his fealty. He wanted to lie. More than anything. He wanted to protect the Dragon’s heart by betraying his trust.

But Kirishima found he was incapable of it. He looked him in the eye when he affirmed, “No sir, not the ones of Akihito.”

“Where are they?”

The secretary stood, stoically folding his hands behind his back, “Sir, there is no need for you to view them. Your time would be better spent at the hospital, helping Akihito recover. Souh and I will compile an exhaustive report detailing the content of the videos so as to illuminate the trauma he suffered and assist in his physical and emotional recovery.”

Asami leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk between them, “What is it you don’t want me to see Kirishima?”

He pictured Yuri drowning the boy in the bathtub, holding him under, the pain and terror on his face when he had failed, him crawling on the floor begging the man he thought was his Daddy not to leave him, promising him that he would be good, he would be good. He thought about the drugs and the horrible cage and the darkness and dogs and the whip and the insects… but most of all, the radiant joy on Akihito’s face when he thought Asami had come back, only to be crushed again… and again…. and again…. under the heel of the man he loved most in the entire world. Using Akihito’s own undying love and faith in Asami, ultimately, to crush him. _Please forgive me. I’m sorry, please I won’t ever do it again. Ever, ever, ever… please Asami, please Daddy. Please, I love you! Please!_

Kirishima gasped in pain, closing his eyes to hide the tears as he shook his head. His voice was broken, “Everything. All of it, any of it.”

He breathed slowly, trying to compose himself, pushing the nausea back, “Whatever you have imagined, just know its worse. Its worse.”

The pain was written on Kirishima’s face, in every tortured inflection of his voice and Asami’s anger immediately evaporated. He studied his faithful secretary for a long moment.

Kirishima asked him earnestly, “Please let me do this for you. Let me bear this. You don’t need to see it, to understand what he did.”

Asami shook his head, “Kirishima, I know you mean well. But I have to know. I have to understand completely. I have to help him.”

“Sir, your heart can’t take this right now. Please don’t forget, you just had open heart surgery, yesterday you were in a coma. To view these tapes, in my opinion, puts you at significant risk, not only emotionally, but physically as well. I cannot allow you to do this, to put yourself in harm’s way.”

The muscles of his masseters rippled as Asami clenched his teeth in anger, “Its not your decision to make. Where are the videos?”

Kirishima knew there was no way around this. He had known from the moment he found them that he could not hide them. But if Asami was going to do this, he was going to do it on Kirishima’s terms. For once.

“I have some conditions.”

A dark brow rose sarcastically, but he seemed amenable and so Kirishima continued, as carefully as a man walking across a frozen lake, who knows not if the next step is his last, “You will see the videos whenever you wish, but I choose where and how.”

“Done. I wish to see them now.”

“There is over twelve hours of footage sir, perhaps tomorrow, when you are better rest-”

There was a hard glint to Asami’s eyes, “Now.”

Kirishima bowed in unwilling acceptance, “Yes sir.”

He escorted his boss to one of the holding rooms. It was not a room they used when they were certain of a person’s guilt. It was more used for basic questioning, if there was money or merchandise missing, trying to determine if more extreme measures would be needed. Sometimes even good employees made mistakes and Asami was not an unfair man. He was always willing to listen first.

He used a lie detector, a basic old fashioned polygraph. Neither Kirishima nor Asami put much stock in the results. The only thing a polygraph was capable of detecting was anxiety. A frightened, nervous, honest employee telling the truth would score much worse on a polygraph than a calm and confident liar. Lie detectors were only slightly more accurate at detecting lies than the pure chance of flipping a coin. The only real value of the polygraph was that many people _believed_ the machine somehow had the ability to distinguish the truth from falsehoods. The belief that it would catch them lying simply made them much less likely to lie at all.

The room was bare, already stripped of mirrors, paintings, potted plants… anything and everything breakable or made of glass. The only thing left was a chair, the lie detector machine and flat screen television mounted to the wall. The chair was bolted to the floor and had padded leather restraints, used to keep the limbs motionless while the lie detector test was administered, as any movement at all could cause the machine to spike. There was also the added value that the restraints were intimidating and that also tended to make those being questioned lean towards telling the truth.

If Asami was surprised, he did not show it. He seemed to understand Kirishima’s reasoning perfectly, sitting in the chair, removed his suit coat, holsters and unbuttoning his shirt to allow Kirishima to place the leads and heart monitors on him. His eyebrows rose when he buckled Asami’s feet and wrists to the chair, but he nearly growled when his gun holsters were taken.

“For your own protection sir.”

His boss smirked, “Are you afraid I might shoot myself?”

Kirishima answered him honestly, “I truly don’t know sir.”

He did not truly believe Asami would kill himself or any of them in his anguish, but if there was anything that might trigger a psychotic break in the strong man, what he was about to see would do it.

And one thing he was absolutely sure of was that the television would not make it five minutes without Asami emptying a full clip into it.

Though he wanted to stay at his boss’s side, should he be needed, but he knew Asami would not want him to see him break. And he was going to break. The polygraph would at least allow him to monitor his vitals from the adjacent room, he would keep an eye on his blood pressure, pulse and respiration. Asami may believe he was invincible, but Kirishima knew all too well that he was not. He had spent the last month being reminded of that fact. He would not allow Asami to put himself back in the hospital, not on his watch.

There was more than one way of being shot in the heart and this was one bullet the loyal man could not take for him.

-

Twelve hours later Kirishima walked back into that room, to a changed man.

Formerly immaculate hair had long since lost its perfection. It hung in dark locks, matted and stuck to the sweat on his forehead. His eyes were downcast, squeezed tightly shut as if screams still echoed in his ears. There was vomit between his feet, dripping down the expensive fabric of his suit pants. Kirishima knelt and released his feet first and then his wrists. The skin was a throttled looking purple, swollen around the joints from long hours of clenching and pulling against the restraints.

He blinked up at Kirishima with bleary eyes. His voice was hoarse from screaming. Souh and Kirishima had to help him stand. His leg muscles were exhausted from the rage coiling in them for so long, they were simply unable to contract. Once he had been captured by a rival cartel in Northern Bangkok. Asami had withstood over two days of torture, being ruthlessly caned on his back, feet and legs and needles being driven under his toenails and still, he had walked out of there himself. They had never seen him like this. The large man stumbled, even with Suoh and Kirishima supporting most of his weight.

They were careful not to look at him with pity in their eyes, though he seemed barely to notice them at all. His eyes looked through them, as if still reliving the images he had seen, over and over in his head.

Slowly he began to straighten, bearing more and more of his own weight until he stood in front of the enormous floor to ceiling window, overlooking all of Tokyo. It was night again. The sky was black, but the streets were alive with the color and movement of downtown Shinjuku. There were no stars in the sky.

“He made him think it was me.”

Asami said it again slowly, as if emerging from shock. "He made him think.... it was me."

Neither of his loyal men knew what to say. Both had seen enough of the torture to understand its horror. It wasn’t the pain and the degradation that had broken Akihito in the end. It was the belief that Asami had done it to him. That he abandoned him. That he no longer loved him. That he had left him alone, in hell.

Asami held out his hand, beckoning at Kirishima, “Keys, now.”

“Sir, do you really think you should be driving?”

Kirishima's own gun was pulled from his holster and thrust painfully into the hollow of his throat before he could blink. He dropped the keys to the limo in Asami’s hand and watch him leave.

All he could do was just stare in silence at Souh. Souh put a hand on his shoulder. They had done all they could. But it hadn’t been enough…

-

Asami’s mind was broiling in his skull. It was twisting and churning like guts trying to puke poison up. Something venomous, nasty and deadly to the body.

Takeshi had made Akihito think it was Asami the entire time. Asami who had left him in that dungeon, who had abused him and kicked him, whipped him and had him raped by….

Dogs.

A scream welled inside his throat, scratching and clawing its way out of him as he pounded his fists against the side of the limo, battering and bruising the flesh of his knuckles even as he drove deep indentations into the side of the luxury vehicle.

He stopped. Heaving and gasping he leaned heavily on the doorframe. His eyes were alight with flames. He could still hear Akihito’s screams; high and shrieking in his head.

_Please forgive me. I’m sorry, please I won’t ever do it again. Ever, ever, ever… please Asami, please Daddy. Please, I love you! Don’t whip me there. Please not there. Please let me close my legs. It hurts so bad. Please don’t whip me there anymore, please stop Daddy. Please stop. I’m sorry, I’m so- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIREEEEEEEEEEEEEEGGGGHHH!!!_

Asami blindly fumbled his way into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. His breaths were short and panting, each one painful to the ripping white agony in his chest.

He could see his precious little face, contorted by tears and agony, as he crawled and begged on his hands and knees. Destroyed by his love.

_Please Daddy, please don’t leave me. Please. I can be good. I can be good, I’m sorrysorrrysorry._

He blindly stuck the key in the ignition and pulled the long sleek car into traffic. The streets passed in a blur, shadows passing over his face and it twitched and contorted with the images in his head. Takeshi and Yuri faded into a blur in the back of his mind. All he could see was Akihito. His baby. Images flipped rapidly like a primitive stop motion picture.

Akihito writhing on his bed in pleasure. Writhing in the pit covered in insects. Akihito moaning with his legs spread wide. Screaming with his legs tied apart. He saw himself making the boy kneel on the bathroom floor, administering an enema and making him hold it until it hurt. Holding him under water as he struggled. Tying the corset until he couldn’t breathe. Akihito humiliated on the floor, surrounded by his own excrement. Akihito humiliated in Asami’s bed, covered in his own urine. His pisshole plugged, the control over his own bodily functions removed at Asami’s whim. His asshole plugged and dilated, until he lost control over his bowels. He saw himself locking the boy’s genitals in a cage and Takeshi dreaming of cutting them off. He saw himself trying to consume the boy; heart and soul and spirit. Wanting to take him inside, where he could never escape. Takeshi wanting to chew his flesh.

_I want to consume you, I would swallow you whole, if I could._

His own actions and Takeshi’s swirled in his mind. A giant mess of convoluted, obsessive cruelty parodying love. Force feeding him his cum. Takeshi pissing down his throat. Takeshi abusing him as a child. Asami molesting him as a child. Touching him in ways he was too young for. Changing him into Asami’s perfect sexdoll. Takeshi molding him into his own perfect babydoll. He remembered Akihito looking up at him on their bed, overwhelmed, helpless and weak without any control over his own body, whimpering in childish fear, submitting completely, losing himself to Asami’s hand. Akihito submitting to Takeshi’s hand, looking up at him and obeying every command. Weeping. Broken. Empty.

Broken like a doll. A beautiful china doll broken too many times. Smashed and put back together wrong.

He could no longer distinguish his actions from Takeshi’s.

He could no longer distinguish himself anymore. He saw himself putting Akihito in diapers, manipulating, molesting and penetrating his unconscious helpless body for his own satisfaction. He saw himself taking away the boy’s dignity and his sense of self. Denying him his freedom. Keeping him in a box. A shiny, pretty box, just like the coffin, built in every way for Akihito’s comfort. Built to keep him in and the rest of the world out.

A dollhouse.

He saw Akihito tiny and helpless, cowering from Asami as he loomed giant and enormous over his dollhouse. He plucked him from it and brushed his hair, he dressed him and undressed him. Told him what to eat and when. Put him in each room as he pleased, bending and unbending his stiff arms and forcing him to do what Asami wanted him to do as Akihito submitted to all of it blankly with empty eyes. Empty like a doll’s.

Akihito believed it had been him.

Because he was, just like Takeshi.

_You are mine, only mine, always mine. I will never let you go._

Asami fell from the limo, leaving the keys in it, the engine idling and the door wide open while the other drivers honked at him. He stumbled through the intersection blind to the cars whizzing around him, the world spinning on its axis and leaving him behind.

How had he had not seen? How could he have been so blind? He thought he had been loving him. But all he had been doing was hurting him. All these years. All these years.

He stumbled his way into the hospital, the guards parting for him. Kuroda sat in a chair in front of Akihito’s door, snoring slightly. Asami walked around him, closing and locking the door behind him with a resolute click.

He approached the bed and stood at the foot like an avenging Dragon, watching his beloved Princess sleep. He remembered the words he had spoke to the fragile boy, not so very long ago.

_I want you like I want my next breath of air. I am a man obsessed. Now do you see Princess, what I mean when I say I need you? Someday you will. Someday you will need me the way I need you. Love me the way I love you. You are my life, all I want.. is to be yours._

The words echoed in his mind, haunting him like an ominous curse he had unwittingly placed on both of them. The ultimate regretted desire, turned inside out and upside down on the one who made it. Turning a wish granted into a nightmare regretted.

Asami had been given what he always wanted. Akihito was now his. Completely. He needed Asami as much as Asami had needed him. More even. He would never want to leave his side. He would never want to run away. He would never long for more. Akihito would never want to leave his dollhouse ever again. Asami truly was his whole life now.

Just as he had always wanted to be.

Asami fell to his knees beside the bed, his dark head going down into Akihito’s lap as his great heart shattered into a million pieces.

His poor broken baby.

-


	56. Systematic Desensitization

_Six months later_

Asami woke to the pleasant sensation of Akihito’s warm languid body splayed across him. Sleeping with his boy these days was a bit like sleeping with a creeping vine that climbed over him and wound itself about his torso while he slept. They always started the night with Akihito tucked into the crook of his body, his head on his shoulder and his arm around the boy’s side. But slowly, in his sleep, Akihito would seek the warmth and the safety of Asami’s much larger body and crawl on top of him. He would finally settle in for the night plopped right on Asami’s chest, with his arms and legs draped over each side and his head nestled in the hollow of the older man’s throat.

It was the best way in the world to wake up.

His slender form still weighed so little, it was like being wrapped in a heavy quilt, the boy’s tummy pressed against his, warm like a hot water bottle. Sometimes there was a line of drool on his neck, Akihito’s hot breath snuffling into his skin. He would rise and fall in time with Asami's breathing. The older man began their morning ritual by kissing his fluffy blond hair and stroking his naked back. Akihito had started the night in a nightgown too but somehow that always ended up on the floor and the boy would be left in just his pull up.

He whispered into the boy’s sleeping ear, “Good morning Princess. Its a new day, time to wake up. Time to come back to me. I miss my Princess, please wake up baby...”

The words varied but his sincerity never did. Sometimes Akihito shifted at Asami’s passionate words and pulled on his pacifier in his sleep, but he never woke. Asami had faith that someday he would. Someday he’d come back to him. Someday his Princess would wake. 

But until that day came, he would cherish every precious moment with his perfect Little One.

He slowly rolled the sleeping boy to the side and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It was six in the morning. His Little One never even stirred until at least eight. That left Asami two hours whole hours before Akihito would wake naturally. He always made sure Akihito never woke alone. That had happened once. Just once.

Asami never let it happen again.

He turned on the baby monitor next to the bed, so that if Akihito did begin to stir, it would alert him. Asami carried the radio into his home gym.

He loved every minute of his time with Akihito, but he also enjoyed the privacy of these early morning hours. The quiet and the peace. He began with a brisk jog on the treadmill, thirty minutes of weights and finished with martial arts and a spot of boxing. After that, it was a quick shower and a shave. And then it was seven forty five and time to wake his Sleeping Beauty.

Akihito had twisted himself all up in the covers. He looked like a tiny little bundle in the middle of the bed. Asami gently untangled those long gorgeous limbs from the sheets, “Good morning Little One, rise and shine!”

Akihito protested his naked skin being exposed to the colder air of the room with an unhappy whimper. Asami tugged the pacifier out of his mouth and smiled at the way his plump lips moved, still seeking it. He had broken Aki of his thumbsucking habit during the day, but the night was a whole different story. The pacifier was a compromise. At least the soft rubber would not cause damage to his teeth. He laid down on his side and faced him, covering his soft little cheeks with kisses, enjoying his warm sleepy body. This was his very favorite part of the day, when he would wake the boy up and try to get him out of bed. He would be sleepy, and nuzzle his face into his neck. The feeling of love and trust Akihito had for him was heart melting. He would hum to him softly and then louder and louder, slowly rousing Akihito from his sleep.

He shook his blond head, ducking it down and trying to bury it in his chest, “Noo-o Daddy, M’ seeepin!”

“I know baby boy, but its time to get up. Up, up, up!!” And with that, Akihito was plucked from his warm, soft bed by Asami’s strong arms. He held him securely with one hand under his padded butt and the other wrapped around that tiny waist, the teenager's delicate feet dangling inches from the floor.

“Daaaddyyy!” The boy whined plaintively and rubbed his eyes while Asami dodged the angles of his elbows. Then he would look up at him with drowsy blue eyes and a pouty lower lip. The boy did not like to get up early.

“Hellow Grumpypants.” Asami grinned and he gently nipped that fat lower lip with his sharp white teeth.

Akihito’s mouth opened in a cute litte indignant circle, “I'm not Grumpypants!”

“Oh no?” Asami asked in mock surprise, “Then who are you?”

He scowled, “I’m Akihito!”

“Ooooh, I must have been confused then. Because all I see is a frowny face and my little Akihito has the prettiest smile in the whole wide world.”

Akihito smiled wide then as proof, his hair was stuck straight up on one side like a porcupine, “Its me Daddy, its me!!”

Asami grinned back at him and kissed those adorable dimples, “Why so it is…. Good morning Little One.”

“G’mornin Daddy!”

He sat him on the edge of the bathtub and the boy lifted his hips so Asami could pull down his pull-up diaper. It was dry. He had been doing so good lately. He almost never had accidents anymore.

“All dry Daddy!” Akihito was positively beaming.

Asami beamed back, “Good job buddy!”

Bathtimes were always a bit precarious. It had taken Akihito months to be able to get into a bathtub alone. Though his memories were not intact, his fears most certainly were. Asami had to get into it while it was empty, coax Akihito into his lap and then hold him the entire time the tub filled. Akihito still didn’t like the water to be above his belly button. And sometimes he still got frightened of the water regardless of how deep it was.

But Asami had a fix for that.

Music.

He cranked the radio up and Akihito grinned and jumped to his feet. He began to sway from one bare foot to the other in time with the happy beat, hopping on the cold tile floor. Asami held out both of his hands and Akihito took them, wriggling and twisting, happy and completely unaware of his nakedness. He was so very beautiful.

Asami sang along with the song as they danced together, “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch. You know that I love you. I can't help myself, I love you and nobody else…”

The little blond boy wiggled his butt and jumped and danced as the bathtub filled. His entire countenance was filled with joy. Asami danced him right down into the warm water, helping him step into the slippery tub as he continued to sing, “'Cause, Sugar Pie Honey Bunch, I'm weaker than a man should be, I can't help myself, I'm a fool in love 'ya see”

Asami handed him his boats and toys while he poured water over his back and head. He washed Akihito’s hair in the mornings because he did not like to sleep with wet hair. It was getting long again, curling down over the back of his pale neck. It was shaggy and unruly and sometimes fell into his eyes, but the golden locks were so beautiful that Asami couldn’t bring himself to cut them.

Akihito began happily placing the little military soldiers into boats and preparing them to invade the side of the tub, where the plastic alligator was sitting. Occasionally he grabbed the alligator and growled threateningly at the soldiers, “Grrrr!”

He dispensed a dime sized amount of rosemary mint herbal shampoo into his hands and lathered it up before he began to lovingly scrub Akihito’s scalp. The boy immediately stopped playing with his toys and leaned into Asami’s fingers, moaning with pleasure. Asami grinned and scratched his scalp with his fingertips, kneading and rubbing and massaging the back of his neck and behind his ears and his temples. Morning baths were different than evening baths. In the evenings, Asami used lavender and eucalyptus to sooth the boy, his movements would be slow and unhurried, kneading Akihito until he was sleepy and languid. He loved nighttime baths. Caring for his precious boy, watching Akihito melt and relax under his hands was a reward all in itself. Morning baths were different than nighttime baths, the smells were peppermint and rosemary, invigorating and tingly and meant to wake him up. He used his nails more to stimulate his skin and his movements were more vigorous, perking the boy right up and putting him in a happy mood for the day.

Akihito was for the most part a very happy little boy, but like anybody, he had his bad days too. Asami had medications to help with those days but he didn’t like the way they left his Little One in a dazed stupor, so he took every possible precaution to make sure Akihito had as many good days as possible. The music was an important adjunct to that, as was the aromatherapy.

Asami continued to sing along absently with the song, “'Cause Sugar Pie Honey Bunch, You know that I'm waiting for you, I can't help myself, I love you and nobody else.”

Every now and then Akihito piped in with his high, sweet, baby voice and they sang together. Finally when he was done washing all his nooks and crannies, Asami tipped his head back and put a hand on his brow to make sure the stingy soap didn’t wander down the wrong direction while he rinsed it from his hair. Akihito smiled and shuddered as the hot water ran down his spine. When it was all done he grinned and squelched his bottom on the top, sloshing the water with a mischievous glint in his eye. The toy boats bobbed up and down precariously close to the ledge of the tub. Asami plucked them out before they could tumble over the edge and Aki’s lower lip came out in a pout.

He kissed his wet forehead, “Stand up my good boy.”

He used the removable nozzle to spray him down and then promptly lifted him out of the tub and folded him up in a big fluffy towel. He dropped it on his head, covering the boy to his bellybutton.

“Where did Akihito go?” He asked, puzzled.

Giggles came from under the fluffy towel and his pink toes curled in excitement. The tub drain gurgled from behind them as the water drained out. Asami gasped in horror and bent down to look inside the tub.

“Oh no, he went down the drain!!!”

Akihito snorted from behind him and dissolved into giggles. He flung the towel off of his head, “Here I am Daddy!”

He let out a sigh of relief, pressing his hand to his heart, “Oh my goodness, I thought I lost you. I was so afraid.”

Slender arms closed around his waist as Akihito pressed his naked body against him, his blue eyes were concerned as he looked up and explained earnestly, “I didn’t go anywhere, I was right here, the whole time!”

Asami kissed his precious pink lips, “And I am so thankful for that Little One. Promise you won’t leave me and break my heart in two?”

He nodded solemnly, “I promise Daddy.”

The older man stole a kisses while he tousled his hair dry. It smelled like mint. The song that was playing on the radio was Buttercup. He nuzzled his cheek and sang to him as he combed his hair. The curls were already starting to spring back, “I need you! I need you! More than anyone, darlin' You know that I have from the start, So build me up, Buttercup! Don't break my heart.”

Akihito hummed along and bounced side to side with the beat as Asami scrubbed him dry. Finally when he was squeaky clean, Asami patted his naked bottom, “Time to get dressed!”

He grinned and raced Asami back into bedroom. Nowadays, Asami always let Akihito pick his clothes out. Dr. Kuroda said it was important to foster autonomy, to encourage Akihito to make as many decisions for himself as he was capable of. So unlike before, Asami let him pick his outfits every morning. The boy’s fashion sense was…. eclectic, to say the least. If it were up to Asami, each outfit would be perfectly coordinated; everything would match from his socks to the ribbons in his hair. But Akihito? He just liked color, as much and as many crammed together as possible. Asami never knew what he was going to come up with next.

Akihito hummed as he went through his drawers, occasionally picking out a piece of clothing and rubbing it between his fingers. He liked the softness of the cotton. Gone were the fancy fabrics, silks and chiffons. Those were only for special occasions. Asami had purchased an entirely new wardrobe for the boy based purely on comfort and play; breathable cottons as soft and light as air and each one bright and colorful.

Akihito bit his lip as he selected each item of clothing, his little brow furrowed, concentrating as seriously as if he were picking out an outfit for the Oscars. He pulled out a purple skirt, knee high lime green socks and an orange T-shirt with a snail on it that said ‘Meow’.

Asami couldn’t have wiped the grin off his face if his life depended on it.

His Little One was pretty good at getting himself dressed too, as long as there were no buttons or zippers involved. As Asami suited up for work, Akihito wiggled into his T-shirt, pulled his elastic big-boy diaper up over his bottom, scooted the skirt up onto his hips and pulled on his socks. He got one of the heels backwards but it was mostly right. Asami sat him back down and fixed his sock so it faced the right way. Hair clips and bows were scattered across the top of the Asami’s dresser and Akihito passed the one he wanted to Asami. It was a pink barrette with a blue plastic bird on the top. Asami swept his shaggy bangs to the side and out of his eyes and clipped it over his left ear.

“Am I pretty Daddy?” He peered in the mirror curiously.

“You are the most beautiful boy in the entire world.” Asami said with all seriousness, every word sincere.

If Asami could have bottled and sold the radiant, ear to ear smile that passed over his pretty face he would never have had to work another day in his life. It was pure perfection. He gallantly proffered his hand and Akihito took it, twirling under Asami’s arm. With a swish of his hips, twirling his fluffy skirt, he excitedly skipped into the kitchen.

“Pancakes for breakfast Daddy? Mickey Mouse Pancakes??”

Akihito knew very well that pancakes were for Sundays. But the boy really, really loved pancakes. Asami eyed his hopeful expression skeptically and decided to tease him a bit, “I don’t know…. have you been good?”

“Very good Daddy! I put away all my toys and I scraped my knee and only cried a little bit.” He pointed to the cartoon band-aid adorning his left knee, “And I didn’t have an accident all night long!”

Asami smiled, “That is VERY good.” He took Akihito’s hands in his, “But you know baby, that when you have accidents, you are not being bad.” The boy was terribly ashamed of his accidents and got very embarrassed of them. Asami had worked very hard to try and cure him of that.

The little blond stubbed his toe into the carpet and looked down at the floor, “I kno-ow”

Asami’s gaze pierced him, “Do you have accidents on purpose?”

He shook his pretty blond head.

“Then how can it be bad? Thats why its an ac-ci-dent. Right baby?”

He nudged that pert little chin up and winked at him as he repeated patiently, “Right baby?”

Akihito smiled shyly, “Right Daddy.”

He ruffled his hair, “Thats my good boy. Now how about those pancakes?”

Blue eyes went wide, “Really, really?”

“Really, Really.” He got out the skittle and the pre-mixed blueberry pancake batter the housekeeper had already made. He settled Akihito at the table, safely away from the hot burner and then heated the oil on the skillet until it sizzled. He smiled at Akihito and then poured a smiley face with the batter. He waited until that browned and then poured the rest of the batter in a circle over it. The smell of the sweet batter cooking filled the kitchen with a warm sugary smell.

He took the skillet off the burner and flung the pancake high into the air, flipping it with ease. Akihito gasped and then clapped his hands together. That was his favorite part. Asami grinned and did it again, throwing it in the air and then catching it with the boy’s plate.

He bowed and presented it to him with a flourish, “For you, my love.”

The batter he had poured first was browner than the rest of the tan pancake. His pancake was looking up at him from the plate with two lopsided brown eyes and a big smile. Akihito cried out in surprise. Asami grinned, it was the first time he had tried it. The mouth came out a bit squiggly, but overall, still a success, judging by the look on Akihito’s pretty face.

“Its a SMILEY pancake!” He gasped.

‘Better than a Mickey Mouse pancake?” Asami inquired curiously.

He nodded, bouncing on his butt excitedly Asami buttered it for him and cut it into bite sized pieces that he could dip in the syrup he had already portioned out. He knew better than to let Akihito dispense his own syrup. He always ended up with a maple syrup lake on his plate and the pancake floating in it like a lilypad. Some sugar was fine, but lots was a recipe for disaster….

Akihito ate his pancake making happy humming noises while Asami made some eggs for both of them, salt and pepper on his, lots of cheese on Akihito’s. He poured Akihito a tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and himself a cup of coffee and ate his eggs, patiently waiting for Aki to finish his breakfast.

The little blond had syrup all over his chin and the front of his shirt by the time he had finished.

Asami smirked. That shirt didn’t last long.

Akihito helped Asami put all the dishes in the sink and then they went back to the bedroom for a new shirt. This time he picked a light purple shirt with a pink cartoon pony on it, covered in glitter, that said “Princess Sparkle” on the chest. It went marginally better with his dark purple skirt.

Akihito inquired about his selection, “Pretty Daddy?”

“Very pretty baby.” He said as he redid the hair clippie that had come loose from his hair, “Ok now brush your teeth, its almost time to go!”

He watched the boy dispense about four times as much toothpaste as he really needed onto his toothbrush and then realized that he had better intervene if he wanted to second shirt to survive longer than the first.

Asami gently took the pink sparkly tooth brush away from him and cleaned most of the toothpaste off the soft bristles.

Akihito pouted, “I can do it Daddy!”

He kissed his little pouty lip and tasted the maple syrup on it. He longed to delve his tongue inside that the cavern and taste more but knew he couldn’t, “I know sugarpie, but Daddy wants to do it. Is that ok?”

“Ok....” He grumbled and then opened wide obediently.

“Good boy, I’m gonna get your teeth all clean, get off all those yucky sugar bugs.” Asami said absently, sweeping the bristles of the tooth brush across his straight white teeth, making sure to move it in circles along his gum line.

The boy’s eyes went wide in panic, “BUGS?!”

Shit.

He backpeddled hastily, “Its just an expression baby. There’s no bugs in your mouth honey, I promise. I’m just cleaning off the sugar.”

Akihito shuddered visibly at the thought of bugs in his mouth and Asami felt like an utter fool. He took him in his arms and kissed him, ignoring the little dribble of foamy toothpaste coming from the corner of his mouth.

“No bugs baby. Not now, not ever.”

Akihito stared at him wide-eyed, “P-promise Daddy?”

“I promise, now won’t you open wide for Daddy so I can finish making your teeth all white and pretty?” Akihito obliged, opening his mouth, but not as wide as before. His blue eyes were still big and Asami could see the shadows of fear in them; fear he knew Akihito himself did not understand. But Asami did.

All too well.

He worked his ways front to back, making sure to brush all the surfaces of his teeth and not hit his tongue so as to make him gag. When he was done, he handed him his name cup with the Panda on it and instructed him to rinse and spit. Asami patted his mouth dry with the washcloth while Akihito looked at him curiously. His fear seemed to have faded. Asami smiled tenderly at him, cupping his cheeks as he murmured against his soft blond hair, “My brave, bright boy”

  
-


	57. Attachment Theory

Asami looked down at his wristwatch, it was nearly nine o-clock. “Its time to go now pumpkin, is there anything you want to bring with you? How about Teddy?”

Akihito was still terribly attached to his old teddybear. He didn’t sleep with it, preferring to sleep with Asami alone, but he took it almost everywhere else. Which was fine with Asami seeing as how the bear had a GPS locator in it. Of course, he never let Akihito out of his sight, but still, one could never be too careful with one’s treasure.

He held out Aki’s totebag, the pockets already full of snacks and medicine, fresh diapers and a change of clothes, and then waited patiently for him to fill it with the things he wanted to bring for the day. In slipped a few books, his teddy, a few random toys and then Akihito apparently decided he wanted to bring his entire train set and began to gather them up. Asami gently put the red locomotive back on the tracks, “Don’t forget baby, we’ve got plenty of toys at the office too. We can’t bring all of your trains. How about one of your Barbies instead?”

He held up one of his pretty blond dolls and moved her legs like she was walking. Akihito smiled and nodded and into the totebag she went. He scampered into the hall and sat down to pull his shoes on. They were bright pink with velcro snaps that Akihito could work himself. He plopped right in front of the door and his little pink tongue popped out of his mouth as he concentrated on getting his shoes on his feet. It was always a challenge because Asami wanted to do everything for him, but he made sure to let the boy do it himself, no matter how long it took.

Akihito twisted and pulled and grunted and Asami wanted to help him but he didn’t. He let Akihito do it all by himself and the way he beamed when finally he got them on the right feet and closed the velcro snaps…. it was worth the extra five minutes. Asami handed him his tote and let the boy carry it, he didn’t want to, but Kuroda’s advice to let Akihito do what he could rang again in his ears. The boy bounced ahead to the elevator while Asami followed behind carrying his briefcase. They were then flanked by two armed guards and Akihito grinned cheerfully at them and bowed, “Good morning Toru-san, good morning Ando-san!”

Both of his men smiled back and bowed low to Akihito. Their smiles were warm and full of compassion. They, like most of Asami’s staff, had known Akihito before his trauma and they had a large soft spot for the beautiful, damaged boy. All of Asami’s staff treated Akihito with the utmost in respect and compassion. The few who had looked down their noses at him, their eyes filled with condescension…. well, Asami had graciously found them new permanent employment at the bottom of Tokyo Bay.

They both bowed low to the little blond, Ando held the door and Toru grinned, “Would you like to push the button Akihito-sama?”

Asami interjected, “Just ONE Akihito.” He looked at Akihito sternly, not wanting a repeat of yesterday’s ‘tour of every floor’.

Aki grinned but he restrained himself and just pushed the one button for the bottom floor. Asami smiled and kissed his soft fluffy hair, he wrapped his arms around Akihito securely, holding him as the elevator doors closed. He could feel his heart rate increasing in that thin chest as the box closed around them. The boy still got a little frightened in enclosed spaces like elevators, but Asami had a cure for that too.

He hummed in his ear, and swayed them side to side as the elevator descended, singing all the way down, “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch. You know that I love you. I can't help myself, I love you and nobody else…”

Golden eyes connected with baby blue in the gleaming metal of the elevator door, anchoring him in the love reflected there, and by the time they hit the ground floor, Akihito was singing too.

They held hands as they walked through the lobby and Toru and Ando held the doors for them. The limo was just outside with Kirishima patiently waiting. Kirishima bowed low to both of them, “Good morning sirs.” He handed them both a file folder. In Asami’s was a stack of reports to look over on the ride to the office. In Akihito’s was a list of things for him to find on the way. Akihito loved to play ‘I-Spy’. He was incredibly good at it.

The boy grabbed his eagerly and flipped it open without saying thank you. Asami reminded him of his manners, “What do we say Aki?”

“Arigato Kirishima-san!” Akihito said, bopping his knees in an excited little bow, his dimples popping out on his cheeks the way they only did when he was really, really happy.

Asami’s secretary bowed back solemnly, “My pleasure sir.”

He was always impressed at the effort Kirishima spent to draw up I-Spy games for Akihito, finding the things in the posters and signs on the streets of Shinjuku. Things like ‘3 Purple H’s’ and ‘an orange bowl of soup’ and ‘giant chopsticks’. Akihito loved it, he really did. Asami had never asked Kirishima to make them for the boy, he had just started doing it. He knew it was the man’s own way of showing Akihito he cared about him. Kirishima wasn’t one for big shows of affections or words, the way he cared for the ones he loved was by his attention to detail, by noticing and then providing.

Akihito liked to sit in the front seat next to Kirishima so he could see better and look for his items. As long as the divider was down and Akihito could look back and see Asami, he was alright with Asami staying in the back. It was good because it gave Asami a chance to get caught up on the day’s proceedings.

He read over the reports as Akihito chattered to the ever stoic Kirishima, exclaiming proudly and pointing when he found the items on his list. Asami found it rather extraordinary that he never missed one. Not one. No matter how difficult or obscure, Akihito could scan the chaotic, tumultuous streets of Tokyo and zone in on what he was looking for immediately. It was really quite brilliant. But then, it wasn’t Akihito’s intelligence that was the issue. Never had been. The boy was a genius, but as Kuroda said; it was the most intelligent minds that had the most fertile soil for mental illness to take root. People with high IQs tended to have complex inner lives, with active imaginations. Their extraordinary minds were capable of recreating the world to fit their dreams and preferences. They had more intensified and enduring reactions to stimuli than their less-gifted counterparts. The same students who excel in linguistics, music, and arithmetic reasoning always had a greater likelihood of developing mental disorders. Excellence in these disciplines required a person to reach a state of high alertness where they can spot underlying patterns and connect seemingly random points in innovative ways. These mental characteristics also make people more prone to experiencing strong emotions, thus the stereotype of the ‘mad’ genius. The unique mental and behavioral talents of highly gifted and creative individuals were often the very same characteristics that led to their downfall.

Genius was double edged sword, mercurial and violent, with a propensity for coming back and cutting the pedestal out from under those it raised high, leaving them shattered on the ground.

Very few of those brilliant broken minds ever gathered themselves together again.

But Asami had faith that Akihito would.

Some day, that brilliance would shine again. He would never give up hope that that day might come. Asami mused to himself, only half reading the reports in his lap as he watched the streets go by and the boy’s face, his bright blue eyes not missing even one detail. Akihito was still himself, not less, just…. different.

Asami was the first one out of the limo when it stopped, briskly slipping out and opening the door for his precious boy. Akihito took his proffered hand and smiled innocently in his tiered knee length purple skirt and purple glitter T-shirt. His shapely legs looked even longer in his knee high socks and his feet looked tiny and adorable in his pink sneakers. He looked like a strange mix between a Harajuku girl and a Lolita. Asami thought he looked utterly delectable. Unfortunately, the boy couldn’t have stuck out more amidst the staid suits that cluttered the financial districts of Shinjuku. And as much as he would have liked to, Asami could not kill every person who looked oddly as him.

He had built a private entrance in the back for Akihito to come and go so the boy would not be subjected to any stares or pitying glances on his way into Asami’s office building. Luckily in this elevator there was only one button to press. Akihito pressed it with his thumb and then promptly tried to stick his thumb in his mouth. Asami intercepted and wiped it with his handkerchief, he then pretended to nibble on Akihito’s thumb, “Mmmmm, its so yummy I want to eat it all up!” He said.

Akihito pulled his thumb away, “Its not for eating Daddy!”

He raised a dark eyebrow, “No?”

Big blue eyes and long dark lashes looked up at him seriously, “No.”

Asami leaned down and kissed him, “Then lets keep it out of our mouth, ok sweetpea?”

Akihito scowled but he nodded. Asami kissed his frown away, “That’s my good boy.”

The elevator dinged as it arrived on the top floor and Akihito was the first one out, followed by Souh and Kirishima. The enormous penthouse office had been completely overhauled once Asami had realized how intensive Akihito’s needs were and that he would have to be with Akihito at all time. Half of the office was now devoted to play space. One quarter of the room had been enclosed to allow Asami to meet in private with investors and associates. It resulted in a very limited view of the skyline of Tokyo. But that didn’t matter. Asami’s clients didn’t pay him for panoramic views of the city and his investors were impressed only by numbers. They passed through that room first. From the inside, it looked like any other board room, with dark wood panelling, expensive mahogany tables and tasteful artwork. Once they passed through to the rest of the space, and looked back, one would notice that each of the large paintings was in fact a one way mirror allowing those on the outside to have a clear view of the entire boardroom. It ensured that Asami was never out of sight of Akihito.

“Yaaay!!” Akihito ran into the large airy room and happily greeted all his stuffed toys and playmates. There was a hamster cage next to the window that he went to first, bending down and speaking softly to the small furry creatures, picking each one up carefully and petting them as their noses wiggled. The black one always tried to nip at his fingers when he tried to pick up the white one. They did not like to be separated. There were two in the cage, a big fat black one and a small skinny white one. Akihito had named the black one after Asami and the white one after himself. They slept together, two little furry bodies curled around the other like a yin yang. They groomed each other, nibbling at each other’s fur with their teeth and they got along… well.. a little too well. They were both males but the big hamster spent most of his day trying to hump the little one anyway. The pet store told them it was a dominance thing and it would go away after a few weeks. It didn’t. And it certainly didn’t help that the little blond one was constantly sticking his butt up in the air like he was asking for it. The chunky black one would crawl right up on top of the skinny white one, pin him down under his enormous girth and mount him. They would hump for ages. Little hedonists.

Sometimes Asami got irrationally jealous of his namesake.

When Akihito was done playing with his little furry buddies, he bounced over to a large block castle that he had been building the day before, plunking himself down on the floor amidst his toys.

Asami smiled indulgently and began his day’s work. He relied a lot more in intermediaries these days, his ability to conduct his business in person was severely hampered by Akihito’s current disabilities. Even with as much as he had improved, the moment Asami was out of view he broke down into a panicked, incoherent mess. Utterly terrified. Inconsolable to the point he had to be sedated to keep him from tearing himself apart.

Thus far the only solution was simply…. not to leave him. Ever.

The boy’s complete dependency on him should have bothered Asami more than it did. But the powerful man had his own reasons for wanting to keep Akihito close. Asami was broken in his own way… still unable to reconcile himself to the fact that his actions had led to Akihito’s current state, unable to let him go, afraid to let him out of his sight for fear that something else might happen to his utterly helpless Little One.

He understood this on a rational level. But deeper… it was not so simple. It was not that easy to master. He could no more escape his need to keep Akihito close and protect him than he could escape gravity. He couldn't stand to be away from him. Not for a single second. He needed Akihito just as much as Akihito needed him. Close. Always close. Ever closer.

-


	58. Proximity Maintenance

Akihito was actually a very good office mate. He understand at this point that Asami had to get his work done before he could play with him, so Akihito played quietly by himself most of the morning; drawing pictures, working puzzles, building blocks. There was even a little indoor jungle gym to provide him an outlet for his energy.

Around noon it was time for lunch, only the best for his precious boy. Akihito sat crosslegged on the floor as he ate. Aki still loved sushi, even more so now because he could eat it with his fingers. He dipped each piece in the sweet sauce provided and popped the rolls into his mouth and then licked his fingers. Asami watched, hypnotized as he sucked his index finger, his plump lips closed around it with his cheeks hollowed. Blue eyes connected with Asami’s and the older man smiled at him and took a piece of sashimi himself. It was delicious, but not as delicious as his beautiful boy. Golden eyes watched him closely. Aki always got sleepy when his little belly was full and the sushi was almost gone. He watched that pretty little mouth part in a tired yawn and then patted his lap, “Hop up sweet boy.”

Akihito stumbled onto his feet and let Asami guide him into his lap. He curled up automatically and snuggled closer so that he fit just perfectly into Asami’s much larger body, like a puzzle piece slotting into place, completing him.

Asami’s hands slipped under the hem of Akihito’s skirt, drawing slow circles on the soft skin of his silky smooth thigh. Little goosebumps popped up and he wanted to follow them up with his hands, to see just where they led… He distracted himself by feeding Akihito another piece of sushi. 

He bounced a little in Asami’s lap as he chewed it, “Yum, yum, yum Daddy!”

“Good lunch baby boy?” Asami questioned as he ducked his head down into the crook of Akihito’s neck, smelling minty soap he used on him and the sweet sauce and his own natural aromas. Intoxicating. 

Akihito nodded, rubbing his cheek in Asami’s hair, “The best Daddy, thank you!!!”

Asami curled his arms around him, holding him tight in the big leather office chair that was just big enough for two. Akihito’s legs were thrown over Asami’s muscular thigh and his bottom was pressed tight against his crotch. That little purple skirt was riding up, getting precariously close to the junction of Akihito’s thighs. Asami felt like a cad for noticing…. but how could he not? The little blond in his lap was every wet dream he had ever had. No matter how old Akihito thought he was, his body was still that of a stunningly beautiful eighteen year old. Soon to be nineteen.

He nuzzled his cheek, “Its your birthday soon Little One.”

Aki nodded, “Uh-huh…”

“How old are you going to be? One? Two?” Asami feigned ignorance to get him riled up.

The boy turned in his lap, frowning intently, “Four Da-ddy!”

Asami smiled and kissed him, “Four, ah yes, how could I ever forget….”

Aki snuggled contentedly, wiggling in Asami’s lap to get closer and that skirt rode up his pretty thighs even more. Asami could feel himself hardening against the rounded swell of the boy’s hip. He cleared his throat, “So, ah, what would you like for your birthday? We can do anything you want…”

Akihito bolted upright, nearly busting Asami in the chin with the top of his head, “I wanna go to the ZOO!!!”

One of his cartoons featured a little girl in an explorer’s hat going to a zoo and meeting all the animals. Asami considered the logistics of such an excursion but it was certainly not outside his abilities. He only hoped the boy wouldn’t be too disappointed when the animals didn’t talk back like they did in the cartoon.

“I think that could be arranged.”

Blue eyes went round, “Reaaaally?”

“Absolutely. But first, my big boy needs to take a nap.”

His dainty chin immediately jutted out, “Noooo, no naps! I’m not sleepy!”

“Yes, yes you are” Asami crooned to him, stroking the back of his neck, while his other hand wandered on his thigh.

“No, I’m not.” Blond curls flew as he shook his head and he nearly lost his barrette. Asami removed it gently from his hair before he lost an eye and sat it on his desk.

“How about this, you get in your special place and I’ll tell you a story. You can close your eyes if you like while I read, but you don’t have to. Ok?”

Akihito hated naptime, but he loved storytime. “Ok Daddy.”

He wiggled down out of Asami’s lap and got down on his hands and knees. Asami tried desperately not to notice how his pert bottom waved in the air as Akihito climbed under the desk. It was an enormous partner’s desk, with a cut out that went all the way through, like a tunnel. Asami had long legs but even he didn’t need all that space. The rest was Akihito’s. His special place was at Asami’s feet. Not where Asami would have chosen, but Akihito loved that little nook under the desk. It was dark and warm and safe and smelled like Asami, dark wood and Dunhills. He had filled it with blankets and pillows and all sorts of plushies. The boy squirmed underneath the desk and arranged himself in his little nest of pillows as Asami rummaged through the totebag and handed him his Teddy and his binkie. 

Akihito popped the pacifier into his mouth and promptly began to suck on it. He wrapped his arms tight around the bear and curled up in a ball on his side facing Asami’s expensive leather loafers. He liked Asami’s shoes. They were black and shiny and smelled like leather. 

Asami cleared his throat and began to read fromt he place they had left off last time, “The dragon is withered; his bones are now crumbled, his armour is shivered, his splendour is humbled! Though sword shall be rusted and throne and crown perish with strength that men trusted and wealth that they cherish…”

His voice was low and deep, the husky timbre as soothing as the rhythm of the rhyme. Akihito felt his eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier and he yawned around his binkie. It wasn’t as good as his thumb, but it was still pretty good. He wanted to stay awake to hear the story now that the evil Dragon had been slain…. but his full tummy and the warmth under the desk put him right to sleep.

A few minutes later, Asami peeked under his desk to see long dark lashes closed over smooth cheeks and Akihito breathing deep and even, out like a light. He smirked He never knew how long he would be out, sometimes only twenty minutes, sometimes up to two hours, but he was a deep sleeper and the powerful man was able to get a number of phone calls made while he was out.

Akihito slept until nearly two in the afternoon before Asami was forced to wake him. He walked around to the other side of the desk and tugged on one little lime green foot that poked out. It zipped back underneath the desk. Asami grinned and knelt down to peer at him. Akihito was curled up amidst a nest of pillows, clutching his teddy bear. His skirt was rucked all the way around his tiny waist, his shirt was up under his arms and the other sock was dangling from his toes. The older man smiled gently and kissed the soft skin of his ankle before pulling the lime green sock up and straightening the other. He crawled halfway under the desk and buried his face in the hot naked silk of Akihito’s belly. Akihito giggled but he didn’t open his eyes. Asami grinned and rubbed his face against his belly again, tickling him with his lips. 

“Num-num-num-num-num….” He nibbled all over his stomach and ribs and side. The little blond squealed and shoved at Asami’s head tugging at his ears but the other man just wrapped his arms around his waist and drug him out into the light. Sleepy blue eyes smiled up at him, twinkling. He lay with his arms over his head, his shirt pulled all the way up, his pink nipples and taut belly were exposed. Long legs were splayed apart on either side of Asami’s hips and his crotch was open and exposed, covered only by the puffy diaper. He could see the tight tendons of his inner thighs and his teeth ached to bite them, his mouth watering to taste the hot, slightly musky skin in the creases. Asami dipped his head between his thighs and did just that. 

Akihito screeched and snapped his legs shut on Asami’s head, harder probably than he meant to. His inner thighs smacked loudly against Asami’s ears. He loosened his legs and looked down, “Sor-ry Da-ddy…”

“That’s alright Little One. Can Daddy check your pants for you?”

The boy nodded and spread his legs submissively. He was disheveled, utterly adorable in his knee high socks and sexy as hell. Asami could feel his cock hard and straining against the zipper of his pants. He pointedly ignored it.

He decided wet or not, Akihito had been in his diaper long enough. It was time for a fresh one.

He pulled the pull-up diaper down from underneath his buttocks, over his knees and off one foot and then the other. Akihito’s legs ended up parted, his knees splayed but, like a child, he made no attempt to close them. The skin between his legs was pink and pretty and smooth. Soft as velvet. Akihito’s flaccid cock lay limp and vulnerable on his thigh above his precious little testicles so perfectly round and pink. Asami looked... but he didn’t touch. He kissed him again, longingly on his delicate hipbone, just once more before covering him up. Asami pulled a fresh diaper up over his privates and then redressed him; pulling his T-shirt over his stomach and his skirt down to his knees, adjusting it and straightening it. It was times like these when Asami was really grateful for Akihito’s propensity for feminine clothing. Skirts made for much quicker diaper changes than shorts and pants and overalls. Easy access.

“Can I watch a movie Daddy?”

Asami’s eyes darted to Akihito’s. He wondered if the boy had any idea of the thoughts that ran through his head. Thought of him; naked and spread, needing and wanting and hot….

“Sure baby, anything you want.”

Akihito cried out for joy and rushed over to the stack of movies. He rummaged through excitedly, it was always hard for him to pick just one. Asami did not let him watch a lot of TV. He made very effort to treat him as the three year old he believed himself to be and made all the necessary accommodations for that. Just about every authority on the subject had issued statements recommending television viewing be kept at a minimum before the age of three while their brains developed. The stimuli children experienced during this period profoundly influenced that brain development. Two dimensional Images on screens behaved in ways that differ dramatically from three dimensional object in the real world and it could change a child’s perception of how objects behaved in reality. One year olds avoided an object after they watched an actress react negatively to it on video, showing that children also applied emotional reactions seen on television to their own behavior. It was basic child psychology; children are programmed to learn from interacting with other people, even if the people they were interacting with were on a picture screen. The cartoons on television also changed subjects and frames at an erratic pace, far faster than real life and set them up for difficulties paying attention later in life. Television programming was changing, constantly interesting, and almost never forced a child to deal with anything more tedious than an infomercial. Boring, tedious and monotonous was part of life, but not part of television, they edited those parts out. The constant rapid pace bombardment and stimulation taught the child to look outside themselves for entertainment. That if they were bored, it was the outside world’s fault and not their own. Television taught children to BE entertained, not how to entertain themselves. 

Like any lesson, the earlier it began and the more often it was reinforced, the more pervasive and deeply embedded in a child’s psychology it became. 

Television was a rare treat for Akihito, it had been that way when he was small as well. Asami often felt that that had something to do with the boy’s ability to create, to play quietly by himself…. to just be.

But though one did not need to eat ice cream at every meal, there was also no harm in the occasional treat. Akihito loved Disney movies. The Little Mermaid was his favorite. Asami liked it too, not the movie, but the way the boy would sing the songs while he watched it. When he sang along with Ariel during that scene in her… Asami wasn’t sure what to call it... ‘hoarding cave’ perhaps... was absolutely stunning. Akihito’s smooth high tenor blended with her soprano in a stunning duet that was far better than the original.

This time, Akihito didn’t choose the Little Mermaid, he chose Mulan. Much better movie in Asami’s opinion. A young woman heroically saving her country was a much better example than one running away from her loving father, chasing after a useless prince like some whorey tart… The opening credits began and Akihito was laying on his stomach on a large beanbag chair, kicking his feet and gleefully giggling at the tiny talking dragon. His name was Mushy or something like that. Asami smiled and crouched down in front of the boy. He kissed him and brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, “I have to go to a meeting.”

“Go?!”

Akihito pushed himself up, the beginnings of a panic already starting to etch itself into his beautiful features.

“Right into the room right there.” He pointed to the boardroom, the men inside waiting for him were already visible through the one way windows. “You’ll be able to see me the whole time, I promise.”

The boy nibbled his plush lower lip anxiously. Asami cradled his face in his hands and painted his forehead with gentle kisses, “I won’t leave you baby, never again. I promise.”

A radiant smile overtook his features and Asami smiled back and kissed him one last time, “I need Kirishima to come with me so I’m leaving you with Ms. Ryouko.”

Heels clicked across the floor as one of his female assistants came forward, bearing a bowl of fresh fruits and berries for Akihito’s afternoon snack. The tall, slender woman bowed and handed the bowl to Akihito who took it eagerly, the first raspberry already staining his lips, “Thank you Mish Ryouko.” He said politely. Akihito was already quite familiar with her, in addition to making Asami’s coffee, handling his dry cleaning and other assorted errands, she was also in charge of procuring Akihito’s meals during his time at the office and taking care of any needs the boy might have. 

Asami ruffled his hair affectionately, then turned and addressed the pretty assistant, “The movie should keep him occupied until the meeting is finished, but should it run over please get him settled in with his coloring books.”

She bowed and her long silky black hair cascaded forward, one lock brushing her painted red lips, “Hai Asami-sama”

Asami was acutely aware of Akihito’s blue eyes following him as he walked from the office into the boardroom. Once inside his golden eyes flicked to the large painting on the wall he knew Akihito could see him through and he made a special motion, patting his breastpocket, that was just for the boy’s eyes.

The moment he made the signal, Akihito grinned and went back to watching his movie, lazily dangling one foot off the beanbag.

The assistant watched the blond curiously. The girl…. no, boy… was incredibly beautiful, like a perfect little doll, what with those big blue eyes and long eyelashes. She looked at herself in the reflection of the glass window. She was pretty too. Her dark eyes glanced sidelong at Akihito to compare.…. not as pretty as he was though. That tiny body was glorious, even in that ridiculous, childish outfit. Dressed properly he would really be something… The little blond was like movie star pretty, like something out of a magazine, almost too perfect to be real. His features were so delicate and lovely and that skin… flawless. The assistant was all too aware of the fine lines in the corners of her own eyes. But those were not visible under the expensive face creams she used to hide them.

Rumours flew about that boy. That he and Asami had once been lovers…. and then something had happened to him. Some sort of accident or trauma that had left him a simpleton. No one really knew. And no one talked about it….. At least not anywhere they might get caught by Asami. But many of the low level employees had theories, that the boy was brain damaged, that it was Asami’s fault and he kept him around because he felt guilty. One of the other employees that probably read way too many Yaoi mangas had an elaborate theory that the boy had either tried to leave Asami or cheated on him and so, as revenge, the powerful man had him brainwashed and kept him around as a living sexdoll. 

Damn Fujoshi and their crazy stories. Ryouko Azumi smirked. She had been around Asami long enough to know that wasn’t what was going on between them. But what was between them…. she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why he kept the pretty boy around. Was it sex? Was it just some ‘Daddy’ kink he had taken too far? She did not think so. She had never seen him touch the boy sexually. Asami touched him, so gently, almost reverently, like a precious child. Like his son. There was a warmth in his eyes that was only there when he looked at Akihito. She couldn't be sure... but she thought it was love, a powerful love undimmed by whatever tragedy had befallen the little blond. True love.

The beautiful woman was a little unfamiliar with the concept, but the one thing she was familiar with was sex and the needs of men. And powerful men like Asami Ryuichi always had powerful sexual needs. And she felt quite sure that those needs were not being met by that little man-child humming along with the Disney movie and sucking his thumb. 

Which begged the question; who was Asami Ryuichi having sex with?

And a second question; why not her? 

Asami Ryuichi was the stuff of fantasy; hot, virile and sexy as hell.. She had laid awake many a night stroking herself, thinking of the muscles she knew were just under the surface of that perfectly tailored suit of his. She already took care of so many of his personal needs… why not one more? He could have his precious little Akihito to play ‘Daddy’ with and then her as well… She could play ‘Daddy’ too, if he wanted. Azumi clenched her thighs together at the thought of one of Asami’s big strong hands coming down on her backside, his golden eyes glowing hot. She smiled slyly and undid the two top buttons of her silk blouse, revealing just a hint of her lacey black bra.

She was still a beautiful woman. Her face was pretty, her body was shapely, her legs were long and her skin was almost as creamy as Akihito’s. It was really the perfect situation for him, he could have an easy, undemanding outlet for his sexual desires and keep his precious little boy. She wasn’t a jealous woman. He could have his little cupcake…. and eat hers too. The assistant grinned, she was certain Asami would take her up on the offer. 

She just needed to put it on the table.

-


	59. Separation Distress

Asami pressed his fingers to his temples. It had been a tense negotiation, fruitful, but tense.

He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back in his chair. That did not mean he was unaware of the woman who came in quietly from behind him. The clink of ice in a glass and the smell of scotch alerted him to her purpose. He took the tumbler from her with a nod and tossed the pungent liquor back. It burned in his throat. The strong alcohol relieved some of his tension…. but not the tension he needed relieved. There was a hot coiling need that was burning in his loins. Throbbing. It had been there for a long time, too long. There was only so much he could do for himself, only so much restraint a man could be expected to have and Asami had never been good at resisting temptation.... Visions of long pale limbs twining in the dark flashed into his mind’s eye. And suddenly he realized, it wasn’t in his mind.

Ryouko Azumi was perched on the conference table, her long legs crossed. Asami’s eyes traced them from her delicate heels up her shapely calves to her milky thighs. Her skirt was riding up. His golden eyes narrowed sharply on the shadows between her legs.

Ruby red lips curled in a seductive smile, “Tense?” She asked and refilled his drink. Her blouse gaped open when she leaned forward and the swell of her breasts was visible, as well as a bit of lacy bra.

He decided to cut through the bullshit, narrowing his eyes on her cleavage, “Whats your game Ryouko?”

She shifted on the table, her voice honey-sweet, “Just seeing how I can be of assistance to you, Asami-sama.”

He gritted his teeth together, “While I appreciate your current services. I have no desire for more.”

She slid off the edge of the table and her skirt rode the rest of the way up, exposing matching panties. Her heels clicked as red tipped fingers trailed along the gleaming dark mahogany and then up his arm. Her fingers squeezed and released the tense muscles of his shoulders. Her breasts pressed into his back. The silk of her hair fell across his cheek and her perfume wove itself about him as she whispered, “Let me do for you what Akihito can’t do anymore. Let me give you what he can’t.”

Her hand snaked its way down his chest, moving towards the buckle of his belt. Her voice was low and husky in his ear, “I know what you need Asami, and I can give it to you, better than that little ‘boy’ of yours ever could….”

She screamed in as the middle phalanges on both her middle and index fingers were crushed in Asami’s strong grip. As he stood, he slammed her hand down on the table, twisting and cracking her wrist. There was a fire in his eyes. Not the kind she had expected.

Azumi stared up in horror as he pinned her back on the table by the throat, “You know nothing about what that boy gives me. What he means to me. You know _nothing_. And you presume to think you can take _his_ place? Think I don’t know the difference between a true diamond and _CHEAP PAINTED GLASS_?” The last three words were roared into her face, his muscles taut with rage.

Kirishima was at his side immediately, “Sir, may I be of assistance?”

Asami seemed to come to himself and removed his hand from her neck. Ryouto lay back on the table trembling, painfully aware that the bespectacled man had probably just saved her life. The Dragon’s golden eyes glowed with hot malice. She felt like a fool, an utter fool, for thinking she could manipulate the powerful man. She had mistaken the tender way he treated the boy for weakness. She had seen the longing in his actions and misunderstood it. But she understood now; had he wanted her, nothing on earth would have stopped him from taking her. He simply hadn’t wanted her. There was only one person he wanted…. only space for one person in his hard, hard heart…. and that space was made for the delicate blond angel in the next room.. and _no one_ else.

She wanted to weep, realizing the opportunity she had thrown away due to her foolish pride, her arrogance in thinking she could tempt the man no one could seduce. She would be fired, of that she was sure. That wasn’t what terrified her though. For all its glittering, legitimate facade, there were still aspects of Sion Industries that were run like an old school yakuza cartel. Employees didn’t quit… they weren’t fired… they were simply found ‘new employment’.... New employment that _guaranteed_ the secrets of the old would be kept.

She pulled her blouse closed, wanting desperately to cover her body for the shame, and waited for her fate. Her broken fingers and sprained wrist ached abysmally.

Asami's face was cold when he spoke again, “Since you wish to lay underneath a man so badly, I think perhaps new employment could be arranged to take advantage of your natural proclivities, don’t you agree Kirishima?”

The stone faced secretary nodded, “Absolutely sir. Come with me Ms. Ryouto, we’ll need to have medical see to those fingers before you begin your new occupation.”

As a whore. He left off the last three words but he might as well have spoken them for that was how loud they rang in her ears. She wanted to scream, to throw herself at his feet and beg for mercy. But she also knew, that to Asami Ryuichi, this was mercy. He could have just as easily thrown her body in Tokyo Bay with no one the wiser. But, by not just simply killing her, he was showing her a kindness, as thanks for the kindness she had always shown Akihito.

“Th-Thank you Sir.”

She bowed her head, but her eyes did not lift from the floor as she walked past him, steered by Kirishima’s strong hand on her elbow…. taking her from the boardroom to the bedroom. But not in the way she had hoped.

Asami’s eyes still glittered in unassuaged anger, part from the woman’s utter arrogance, her insinuation that she could replace Akihito, that she was better than Akihito…. but mostly from the fact that she had left Akihito alone and unattended while attempting to seduce him, practically in front of the boy. He strode back into his office, relieved to see Akihito, none the wiser, happily finger painting. From his spot on the floor he would have only been able to see them from the shoulders up and the sound proofing insured he had not heard a thing. He was humming a song from the movie he had just watched. His lips were stained green and Asami smiled when he noticed the boy’s bright green thumb; the obvious culprit. At least Ms. Ryouto had put a smock on Akihito and laid down a drop cloth before coming to whore herself out.

He hardly even looked up at Asami as he approached, immersed in creating. The boy spoke absently, sweeping his hands over the paper, “Hi Daddy... I’m painting a pit-chure...”

Asami leaned over behind him to to plant kisses in his soft blond hair and also to see what the subject matter was. Sometimes it was dark and frightening, repressed memories coming to the surface. He was relieved to see that was not the case today. He praised him softly, “Such a beautiful picture, baby”

It really was, Akihito’s artistic talent shone no matter what medium he was given. It appeared to be an abstract with no discernible subject, but the colors swirled and blended in a pattern that almost made the viewer feel certain they were moving across the page. The way he used the dark and light colors to frame each other reminded Asami of stained glass with the sun shining through it. It was incredible and Asami knew he would be hardpressed to find anything better in the art districts of Nihonbashi. Regardless, there was only one little artist that he wanted to patron.

The boy carefully picked up his paper and laid it next to several others on the ground, humming to himself quietly. Asami realized with astonishment that it was a series. That each painting led seamlessly to the others. They were gorgeous. He couldn’t wait to frame them. He was pretty sure he could find some more space on the walls.

Akihito seemed to have grown tired of painting was was now pressing his thumb into the paint and lifting it to his lips, in an apparent taste test to see if there was a difference between the various colors. Asami quickly intervened, “No, no sweetheart. Paint is not for eating my love.”

He had both wrists in his, one strong arms going around either side of Akihito’s shoulders, holding both little paint covered hands outstretched. Akihito turned to him in protest, “But Daddy! Its so pretty!”

“I know, but sometimes even pretty things can make you sick. Only food is for eating ok?”

They had had a very similar conversation about Play-Doh the day Akihito had made Play-Doh spaghetti. He had only taken his eye off the boy for one split second and when he turned around, all of the blue spaghetti was gone. Asami had panicked, ready to rush him to the emergency room, despite the non-toxic, non-irritating & non-allergenic labels on the packaging. A few minutes later, Akihito’s face had turned green and he had puked up swirls of blue spaghetti with pink doughey meatballs onto the floor of the limo. And then he had burped. And _then_ he had smiled.

His Little One had a talent for giving him heart attacks. The paint was labelled non-toxic too, but Asami wasn’t taking any chances.

He transferred both slender wrists to one hand in order to turn on the sink and then squirted sweet smelling soap all over Akihito’s hands as he began to scrub them under the warm flowing water. The water soluble paint streamed like a liquid rainbow down into the porcelain bowl and then swirled around the drain. Akihito watched the colors mix as Asami scrubbed between each of his fingers, getting every last bit of fingerpaint off.

He wasn’t sure Aki had learned his lesson from the Play-Doh incident, “Soap smells sweet too, you wouldn’t eat soap would you?”

His cute little button nose scrunched up in disgust, “Noooo Daddy, g-rossss!”

“Well, it smells good.”

Akihito shook his head, “Soap is gross.” He knew because he had licked the soap once and the bitter taste was not one easily forgotten.

“Ok, well eating paint and play-doh and things that aren’t supposed to be eaten is like eating soap. Its gross.”

Akihito knew this, he really did. He just got so curious sometimes, wanting to see what different things might taste like, especially colorful things… and the Play-Doh smelled so warm and salty. Sometimes he couldn’t help but take a bite, sinking his teeth down into the mushy stuff. The taste was always disappointing though.

The warm water running over his hands felt so nice, Asami’s strong hands holding his…. he was almost sorry when his hands were clean. Asami wiped his mouth and then tugged the smock off his arms and over his head. He was all clean underneath. Well…. not all clean. Akihito had had an accident. He had been painting and he had felt the urge, the tug inside his tummy that meant it was time to go potty. But he had been painting and he had paint all over his hands and his smock and the lady with the pretty hair was there, not his Daddy. His Daddy was close, he could see him but he didn’t want to interrupt and he didn’t want the lady to see his peepee…. so he tried to hold it. He really did.

But he couldn’t. Not for that long. At first, the warmth in his diaper had felt nice. But now it was cold and wet and he felt very embarrassed. He didn’t want Asami to know. He was hoping maybe he could hide the diaper somewhere. And then Daddy wouldn’t know that he went in his pants.

The boy was unaware of the way the shame was written all over his face; it was in the way his pink cheeks blushed and his big blue eyes looked wet as they refused to meet Asami’s gaze. A strong hand tipped his chin up, up, up to meet those golden eyes. Daddy was so tall.

“Is everything alright Little One?”

He wiggled away, “Wanna go play now. By myself.” His jaw jutted out stubbornly but Asami wasn’t fooled. He stalked Akihito’s much smaller body back into the corner of the lush bathroom and propped his arms on either side of the wall, preventing escape, “Akihito, don’t you have something you want to tell Daddy?”

He shrugged his shoulder and shook his head, staring at his green socks and wiggling his toes, “Nope Daddy. Uh-uh.”

Daddy frowned, “Akihito don’t lie to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

He sounded angry. His lower lips began to tremble and big fat tears coursed their way over his cheeks, and plopped down onto his shirt, “M’Sorry Daddy!! Please don’t be mad!! Please don’t leave me!”

He began to wail hysterically, his fingers clawing into the front of Asami’s dresshirt as the older man enfolded him in his arms, “Sssh Precious, Sshhh. I won’t ever leave you. No matter what. Not ever, not ever baby. Its ok, its ok.”

The boy continued to cry and Asami continued to plant kisses and murmurs into the top of his fluffy blond hair. He never reacted well to accidents. Even to his little self, the loss of control was terribly embarrassing. It was often just best to let the boy cry it out. He began to grab onto Asami, rising up on his tiptoes and trying to climb him like a tree. Asami smiled indulgently, this was one of the reasons he worked out so strenuously, those big muscles weren’t just for show.

They were moments like these.

There were not a lot of men who could pick up a fully grown eighteen year old boy like a toddler, but Asami made it look effortless. He grabbed him tight across the back and under the bottom, and pulled him up against his chest. His little arms wound their way around Asami’s neck as his feet dangled in the air, his thighs grabbing onto Asami’s hips. He bounced him gently. Akihito loved to be held like this, it made him feel little and helpless and cared for. He liked to be as close to Daddy as he could possibly be. He buried his splotchy red face into the crook of Asami’s neck and his sobs slowly quieted.

His skirt had ridden up in the back and Asami’s thick forearm was underneath it, providing a seat for Akihito’s round bottom to sit on. If it strained him to support the boy’s entire body weight on one arm, it certainly didn’t show. That enormous bicep clenched under his suit jacket, but it wasn’t straining or shaking. It looked for all the world as if Asami could hold Akihito this way for hours. His hand was splayed across his hip, supporting him from the side as well. He could feel hot naked skin under his fingertips and the wet diaper under his palm. He needed to get him out of it. The constant reminder that he had soiled himself was certainly not doing any favors for the boy’s current state of mind.

Asami cradled him gently and sang as they swayed, slowly moving across the bathroom to the padded table on the other side, brought in specifically for times like these. There are fresh diapers on the shelves and lotions and babywipes and clean clothes. Akihito snuggled into his chest, his arms tightening around his neck, trying to keep Asami from putting him down on the table.

“Let me get you cleaned up sweetheart, you’ll feel so much better I promise.” The boy whimpered but he let Asami put him down on his back on the table. His stretchy skirt was rucked up around his waist again, but this time Asami tugged it all the way off of him. It smelled like urine and there was a damp spot on the back. The socks went next and then the shirt. It wasn’t soiled but Akihito would feel better in a fresh one. He pulled the diaper down his legs last and wadded it up and threw it in the trash.

Blue eyes watched him, still filled with upset tears. Asami’s heart ached for him. He hardly ever had accidents during the day anymore. Asami fully blamed himself for this one. He should have taken Akihito to the bathroom before he went into the meeting. It had run for nearly two hours. Of course the boy would have to go to the bathroom after his nap. Even after all this time, sometimes he just forgot how little the boy could do for himself.

Asami kissed the corners of his red-rimmed eyes, “It’s ok Little One, Daddy is here and Daddy is going to make it all better, I promise.”

He wet a hand towel in the warm water from the sink and then wiped his pee soaked groin and delicate penis. He swiped it down the crease of his legs and gently under the sack of his balls. He lifted Akihito’s legs, draping them over his forearm and then pressed them up and back against his chest. It exposed his buttocks and little pink hole to the cold air of the room. Akihito’s little pucker had fully recovered. It was a tiny little starfish, as pink and tight as if it had never been touched. With the recovery of his sphincter muscles, Akihito’s control over his bowels had returned. That was something Asami was intensely grateful for. Cleaning up the occasional liquid accident was an entirely different animal than accidents of the solid kind. He flipped the washcloth over and wiped the globes of his buttocks and then cleaned the crevice between, making sure not to leave any irritating urine behind on his delicate skin. Lastly Asami covered his fingertip and gently pressed the washcloth just inside the boy’s bottom, rotating it around a bit to make sure he was completely clean before he put on a fresh diaper. Akihito moaned loudly and Asami dropped his legs down quickly, concerned he might have hurt him. His worried gaze was met with something he had not seen in a long time. The boy’s cock was fully erect, flushed bright pink to the tip, little droplets of pre-cum oozing from the slit.

They both stared at it in surprise. Since the trauma that had caused the break in his psyche, Akihito had experienced a few spontaneous erections and ejaculations, all during his sleep, a normal occurrence considering his actual physical age. While awake, however, in keeping with his three year old mentality, Akihito had yet to express any kind of sexual desire or need. He had yet to show any kind of interest in his genitals beyond their role in relieving his bladder. But Asami and Dr. Kuroda had been expecting this. Surprisingly, Akihito’s Little persona was not remaining static. He was growing and it was quite normal around the age of four or five for children to start becoming aware of their sexuality. Not in the actual sense, but more the simple fact that playing with their privates felt good. Parents often had to teach children at this age not to explore those feelings or touch themselves in public. It was something that had to be done very carefully, never in a scolding way, so as not to leave the child with a feeling of shame or guilt or make them think that exploring their bodies was wrong.

Akihito gasped and poked at it, his eyes flying wide, “Daddy! My pee-pee is swollen!”

Asami kissed his cheek, flustered inside but he decided that proceeding and acting normally was the best course of action. He took a deep breath to calm himself, “Yes I see. That happens sometimes.”

Baby blue eyes looked curiously towards Asami’s crotch where there was a quite prominent bulge, “Does yours do that too?”

He coughed, “Yes, sometimes.”

Akihito frowned, “But why Daddy? It is sick?”

He smoothed some of the sweet smelling nappycream in the crease of his bottom and the boy’s erection twitched interestedly when the tip of his finger dragged over his hole. Asami took another deep breath and resisted the urge to press his finger inside. He decided that was quite enough lotion. He pulled Akihito upright, lifting him so he was seated and plucked a soft baby blue T-shirt from the pile folded underneath. He answered slowly as he lifted Aki’s arms and tugged the shirt down to cover his stomach. His penis stood proudly in front of a happy little cartoon penguin smiling on the front of the shirt. The words “Chilly Willy” were written above the penguin’s head..... The irony did not escape Asami.

The older man smiled wryly, “Ah no baby, its not sick. It just does that sometimes, when it feels good.”

“It feels good when you touch my bottom Daddy.” Akihito pointed out helpfully, his naked lower half squirming on the changing table.

He cleared his throat with an awkward cough, “Thats good baby.” It was good. Great actually, considering what he had been through, that he didn’t have an extreme aversion to having his bottom touched. But then again, the things they had done to him hadn’t been to make him afraid of rectal intercourse, if anything the constant penetration should have made him numb to it. So really, any reaction to rectal stimulation besides ambivalence or fear was truly a great thing. Of course, ‘Little’ Akihito didn’t remember any of that. It was possible this was simply his body’s own natural predilections and that he was reacting as he would have without any interference. The boy was a natural ‘bottom’. He had always enjoyed anal stimulation, that was something Akihito had expressed as a child the first time around too. It was all very confusing. And made worse by Asami’s own erection that was raging against the seams of his suit pants.

It was cold in the room and Akihito’s erection quickly died down, dangling limp between his legs again. He looked on curiously, “S’ gone Daddy. If you touch my bottom again, will it come back?”

Asami wanted nothing more than to touch Akihito’s plump, gorgeous little ass again. To kiss it and rub it and do all kinds of nice things to it, inside and out….. but he didn’t. He just smiled and kissed his forehead, lifting him down off the changing table, “Probably sweetheart, but its chilly, don’t you want to get dressed now?”

The boy nodded and Asami helped him carefully step into another pair of pullups and a new skirt. It was pink and flouncy with lace along the hemline, Akihito gave it a twirl before bouncing barefoot out of the bathroom with Asami in hot pursuit, determined to get his pretty little feet into pair of matching pink socks with lacey ruffles along the top. Akihito padded away, giggling hysterically as his Daddy gave chase around and around the room until he was finally caught in strong arms and tumbled to the floor, both of them laughing until they were breathless.

The accident was long forgotten.

-


	60. Secure Base

Akihito sang merrily as they walked hand in hand back through the door of the penthouse. Kirishima had been playing his sing-a-long tape in the limo again.

“Frère Jacques, frère Jacques…. Dormez-vous, dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines. Ding-dang-dong, ding-dang-dong!”

He gave a hop, one foot to the other on each ‘Ding-dang-dong’ like he was playing hopscotch and then flopped down on the last one to take his pink velcro shoes off.

Asami smiled, “Would you like to help me make dinner?”

He nodded eagerly, “Oh yes Daddy!!!”

“Ok then, go put down your things in the living room and join me in the kitchen.”

Akihito ran into the living room clutching his tote bag and Asami shrugged off his suitcoat and shoulder holsters, quickly placing the guns high on a shelf out of Akihito’s reach in the closet. His greatest fear was of Akihito getting ahold of his guns. The boy was inquisitive, too curious for his own good. He might think they were toys. The thought of him handling a gun was enough to wake Asami up at night in cold sweats, his chest aching. He carefully locked the closet door behind him.

The housekeeper had already laid out their dinner in the refrigerator. Asami took out each small bowl of chopped vegetables and placed it on the table. Each night was something fresh and healthy and easy to assemble. He could have come home to it already ready, piping hot and on the table waiting for them, but where was the fun in that?

Akihito came skidding into the kitchen on his little pink socked feet and his blue eyes lit up, “Pizza Daddy? Pizza?!”

His excitement was infectious, “Yea baby. Come help me make it.”

He supervised the washing of dainty hands then slipped a wipeable apron covered in cartoon owls over Akihito’s head and tied it behind his tiny waist to help keep his clothes clean. On Taco night, Akihito kept it on all the way through dinner. Asami rolled out the dough on a greased pan and covered it with a rich tomato sauce. He set Akihito up with a dull butter knife for cutting up the washed mushrooms. His bubblegum pink tongue hung outside the corner of his mouth as he carefully cut the tops into thin slices like he had been taught. Asami chopped the onions and the peppers with a much sharper knife that Akihito knew was not for touching. The boy leaned over the counter and placed the pepperonis all over the pizza. They weren’t at all evenly spaced but Asami let him do it his own way. He put the mushrooms all over the pizza too but green peppers and onions only on parts. The sausages he seemed to carefully consider where he placed. Asami couldn’t see the pattern, but he was pretty sure there was one. Every now and then one of the precooked sausage balls slipped into Aki’s little mouth. When he was pretty sure Akihito was done making the pizza and was just playing with the food and red sauce at that point, Asami brought out the shredded cheese and helped him sprinkle it evenly over all the toppings and tomato sauce.

He watched with big round eyes as Asami put it into the oven, timidly backing up a few steps from the heat that shimmered in the air and licking his skin. Only after the oven door was closed and the timer was set, did he pipe up again, “Daddy can I dress up for dinner?” His fingers were stained with tomato sauce.

Asami motioned him over and squirted some basil and lime scented soap on those hands one more time, “How about after dinner?” He suggested. “We’ll both get dressed up and go dancing.”

“Ok Daddy ok!”

“Now how about my big helper help me clean up this mess?” There was pizza sauce all over the counter and a number of dirty bowls. Akihito loved being Daddy’s big helper. Asami wrung out a warm dish towel and Akihito wiped the counters clean. Asami followed him up with some lemon scented cleaner and then he washed the plates while Akihito dried and stacked.

“Thank you sweetheart, how about you go play with your toys until the pizza is done K?”

Akihito made a move to go but then seemed to change his mind, he mumbled rather quietly, “I’d rather stay with you Daddy.”

His honest little face looked up at Asami and the older man sighed internally. Akihito still didn’t could stand it when he was out of sight. Someday he would be able to. Someday. The boy was much better than he used to be. For nearly the first month, he hadn’t wanted to even be out of Asami’s arms. He had had to carry Akihito everywhere like a baby. Slowly but surely he grew less frightened, satisfied with holding onto Asami’s hand and then just being next to him. Now Akihito was happy as long as he was in sight. Maybe in a few months, he would be alright playing alone by himself, just knowing Asami was nearby. Someday… but not yet.

Asami smiled gently at him, “Would you like me to play with you?”

Akihito’s face beamed, his cheeks bulging with a smile he could hardly contain. Asami felt his heart melt in his chest. Sweet baby boy….

“Can we play dress up?” He asked again. Asami smiled at his short memory. He seemed to have forgotten that Asami already told him no. But, the boy did love to play dress up.

Asami pictured the way Akihito liked to eat pizza; the messier the better and then patiently repeated, “How about we save that for after dinner? Wanna play a board game instead?”

“Candyland!”

Internally he groaned. He had bought Akihito dozens of boardgames. But it was ALWAYS Candyland the boy wanted to play. He thought it had something to do with all the colors and the funny pictures, strange characters and candy. Well he knew it had something to do with the candy. Asami sat it all up on the coffee table and then poured himself a scotch and sat back in his leather chair. Akihito sat on the floor between his feet and Asami idly rubbed his back. The blond chose the green gingerbread man as his token and drew a card. He stared longingly at the gumdrop mountains with his cheek plumped by his hand, “Can I have some gumdrops Daddy?”

“After your dinner pumpkin pie.” Asami said reasonably. He had gotten lucky and drawn the Princess Lolly card. He put his yellow token on the board way ahead of Akihito’s. The boy pouted. He wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t have candy or because Asami was winning. Asami didn’t always let him win. He felt it was important for the boy to understand taking turns and that you could still have fun playing a game even if you didn’t win. He explained that playing the game was like the cake and winning is like the frosting on top. It’s sweeter with frosting, but the cake is still good without it too. Akihito seemed to understand the idea, but he still liked it better when he won.

And maybe occasionally Asami rigged the deck.

He liked Akihito to win too.

Asami smirked when Akihito squealed loudly a few minutes later when he drew the Queen Frostine card just after Asami drew the Plumpy card. Akihito moved his token close to the finish while Asami ended up nearly back at the beginning. “Gonna beat you Daddy! Gonna beat you!” He crowed.

Asami chastened him, threading his fingers through his honey curls, “Nobody likes a gloater baby.”

Akihito apologized humbly, but he still quivered in excitement as the game neared the end and then grinned wide when he reached the Candy Castle first. “I won Daddy, I won!!”

“Nice game Aki!” Asami praised kissing the top of his head and smoothing his hands over his shoulders, “How about some dinner now?”

The pizza was hot and crispy. Asami made Akihito wait until he had cut it into slices and it had cooled before letting him have any. His baby boy was so impatient. He never could wait for the hot pizza to cool and he always burned the roof of his mouth. Akihito ate his pizza crust first, back to front, while Asami rolled his and ate it New York style. They each had half and then Asami had a beer to wash it down while Akihito enjoyed some ice cream with his promised gumdrops. When he was all finished, Asami took off Akihito’s chocolate and pizza covered shirt and mopped his plump, messy mouth with the clean hem. Akihito looked up eagerly at him, “Can we play dress up now Daddy? Can we? Can we?”

Asami looked at him seriously, “Are your toys put away?”

Akihito nodded earnestly.

“Did you feed your goldfish?” Asami asked suspiciously. He had gotten him the pet in hopes of fostering a sense of responsibility. Akihito loved his goldfish. Too much really. Once he had taken it out of the bowl and carried it around with him. Asami found the poor fish in his pocket later that day. He replaced the dead fish with Akihito none the wiser, but had cautioned him against playing with his goldfish out of the water. Akihito gasped and ran into the living room. Asami smirked.

He waved at the little goldfish. “Konnichiwa Lucky Sushi!”

The fish wiggled back knowing it was about to be fed. It looked like an orange golf ball with fins. Asami wondered if the boy was overfeeding it. He cautioned him as the boy began to sprinkle the little multicolored flakes into the water, “Not too much…”

Akihito stopped and watched enraptured as the little fish came up to the top of the bowl and plucked the flakes from the surface of the water with its teeny mouth. Akihito’s dainty fingers were spread wide on the outside of the glass. Asami knew he wanted to pet the fish, but he didn’t. He was so proud of him for his self control.

He tousled the boy’s fluffy blond hair and kissed the top of his head, “Good job Little One.”

Akihito looked up with the fish was done eating, “Dress up now Daddy? Please?”

Asami nodded and Akihito scampered into the bedroom, he immediately headed for his closet. Asami held up a bottle of nail polish and shook it enticingly, “Pretty nails for my pretty baby?”

A shy smile curled its way across the boy’s lovely face and he plopped down eagerly in his dressing chair. Asami grinned. He loved doing this, there were tons of ways he would have liked to pamper him but Akihito had trouble remaining still for most of them. Akihito loved to have his nails done like the movie stars though and would sit for as long as it took. Asami knelt at his side and began to soak his chipped fingernails in acetone and glycerin, gently scrubbing and removing the old polish until his nails were clean and fresh. Then he trimmed them short and buffed them with an emery board. Akihito didn’t like to have his cuticles pushed back so Asami just moisturized and massaged them and nipped any loose pieces.

While he worked, Akihito kept up a steady stream of conversation about what he wanted to see at the zoo, “.... and the sea lions and dolphins and hippos and owls…”

Asami looked up at him, wondering aloud, ‘Do they have owls at the zoo?”

The boy nodded expertly, as if he had been to the zoo a hundred times, “Of course Daddy.”

He pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Of course.” He would make a phone call tomorrow. If the Tokyo Zoo did not have owls, they would receive a generous donation to build a new enclosure. If his baby boy wanted to see owls, owls he would see.

Akihito sighed as Asami rubbed moisturizer on his hands and massaged his forearms, He carefully made sure none of the oils got on the nails, buffing the nail clean again before applying a base coat to keep the paint from staining.

“But I don’t want to see any bats Daddy.” Akihito said with a small shudder.

“Absolutely no bats.” Asami agreed and opened the side drawer, “Which color pumpkin?”

Akihito leaned over and looked in the drawer. Asami had gotten him every color of the rainbow from eye watering chartreuse to day-glow orange. They weren’t Asami’s tastes. He preferred the classics; clear, pink or red. But the bright colors were certainly right up Akihito’s alley. Asami always let him pick and always praised his selection.

He pointed to bright pink, with just a hint of shimmer. “This one’s pretty!”

The older man nodded, “Its very pretty” He rolled it in his hands, simultaneously warming the paint and shaking it up.

Akihito placed his hand in Asami’s in a dancer’s grip, his dainty fingers curled forward over Asami’s own much larger fingers. He swept the pink Shellac from the bases to the tips, careful to clean any excess with Q-tips. No tiny Asian lady could have done a better job, when Asami did something he did it well. He was meticulous. Akihito’s manicure was perfect when he finished with the top coat and placed the boy's hands under the UV lamp to set the epoxy. Akihito was starting to get fidgety so Asami distracted him by tousling his curls in the mirror, “Would you like pigtails baby, or a pony or do you want to wear it down?”

His hair was short but Asami knew he could make any of those hairstyles work. Braids were out of the question but not for long. His hair was growing so fast...

“Pigtails Daddy!”

Akihito watched enraptured as Asami brushed his curls and then gathered the tendrils behind his ears, there were bows strewn across the top of the table. Akihito chose a green polka dotted one and a blue striped one and Asami obediently tied them into big fluffy bows on either side of his slender nape. He then snuck a crown out from behind the box of bobby pins. It was the one he bought for his Princess. It seemed so long ago now. He had it made custom for him. It was a forty thousand dollar tiara Asami had hoped Akihito might wear on their wedding day. Someday he would. When his Princess returned to him. It was ornate, stunning and utterly classic and looked utterly lovely on his dainty head. Some of the larger glittering gemstones were pink diamonds, cut in the shapes of hearts. It glittered in his golden hair, sparkling and glinted as he turned his head. Akihito clapped his hands, “Oh Daddy!! So pretty!!!”

He agreed, “So pretty angel. So pretty.”

He knelt in front of him and pulled the boy’s favorite strawberry lipbalm out of his pocket, “Pouty lips!”

Akihito knew what he meant and pursed his plump lips immediately, pushing them out so Asami could apply the shimmering pink gloss. He grinned when he was done and Akihito smacked his lips together, licking his lips to taste the sweet flavor. Asami lifted his pink tipped hand and kissed it, “Go pick your dress baby”

Akihito bounced into the closet. Asami stood in the doorway and watched him. He rubbed the silks on his cheeks and patted the fluffy chiffons with his small hands. Akihito could take a long time to pick the dress he wanted. Some night he wanted to see every single one before he made a choice. Asami didn’t mind. He just loved to watch his sweet happy face look at all the lovely things he had bought for him. The only thing missing was the heels. Asami had hidden those away. Akihito lacked his former grace and coordination and tended to stumble around even with no shoes on at all. Asami was terrified he might break an ankle trying to walk in them. The boy was just as pretty barefoot anyway.

Akihito finally made his selection. It was a fluffy light blue one with a sparkly bodice, thin straps and a full layered chiffon skirt. He stood on his tiptoes and pulled it off the rack and then ran across the closet and thrust it into Asami’s hands, questioning, “This one Daddy?”

“Definitely!” Asami helped the boy shimmy out of his skirt and socks until tAkihito stood naked before him. He suddenly reminded of the words of the famous English painter, William Blake, ‘Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed’. Akihito’s body was like work of art, but with a beauty no paintbrush could ever hope to capture. His skin shone like the purest pearl, creamy and translucent. His delicate nipples looked like the prettiest berries, the lithe lines of his stomach framed the tempting hollow of his navel. His delicate hips flared, the curves gently rounded and sensual and between his milky thighs....

Asami had to tear his eyes away. He coughed and opened the back of the dress, bending to help Akihito step into it. His golden eyes were level with the boy's crotch, pretty privates swaying enticingly with his every movement. Asami wanted to palm his cock and adjust his pants. It felt like the seam was indenting into the hard flesh of his cock. He stood, tugging the dress up and turned Akihito’s smooth back to him, carefully pulling up the zipper. He adjusted the dainty straps on his delicate shoulders and then looked over his blond head into the mirror. The boy’s long lashes fluttered open and Asami’s breath caught in his chest as he looked at the loveliness in the mirror. His wide blue eyes stared innocently at his own reflection as if he had no idea of his own beauty. He was a mismatch of color, a sky blue dress, one dark blue ribbon, one green, bright pink nails and he looked absolutely perfect to Asami. His perfect Little One.

Asami shrugged on his tuxedo coat over his suit pants and tucked a matching sky blue handkerchief into his pocket. He was careless of the way the black coat clashed with his pinstriped suit pants, in fact, he preferred it that way. They would be mismatched together.

Perfect disharmony.

He escorted Akihito arm in arm into the living room and then scooted the couch and tables aside to make a dance floor. They looked for all the world like a fancy couple on their way to an elegant ball.... Until Asami turned on the music.

Akihito had a thing for Michael Jackson. Turns out, Asami did too.

Asami’s fingers snapped in time with the rhythm of ‘Beat It’ and Akihito hips swayed side to side, his full skirt swirling. They worked their way through M.J.’s greatest hits. By the time they got to Thriller they were both doing all the moves and by the time they got to ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’ Asami was singing every word, “Hey Pretty Baby with the high heels on, you give me fever like I've never, ever known.”

Akihito jumped up on the middle of the couch, his skirt hiked above his knees as he bounced barefoot on the expensive leather in time to the beat. Asami didn’t care if he ruined the springs. He could always buy a new one. He did the classic Michael Jackson high pitched squeal, “Hee-Hee!” and did the crotch grab just liked he did it. Akihito nearly fell off the couch, clutching his stomach, laughing hysterically at Asami’s dance moves, the older man rocking on his heels and moving jerkily in a perfect imitation of the famous singer. Anything to make his baby smile.

“Just promise Baby, you'll love me forevermore. I swear I'm keepin' you satisfied, 'cause you're the one for me!”

He spun into a kneel at Akihito’s feet and opened his arms, the boy bounded off the couch and into them, with complete faith that he would be caught. He was. The older man’s strong arms were outstretched and patiently waiting, providing a safe place for that his adored little bundle of fluffy skirts and soft skin and happy smiles to land. Asami stood, effortlessly lifting the teenager’s lanky frame in his massive arms. Akihito was worn out from dancing and he momentarily rested his golden head on Asami’s strong shoulder, smiling happily as Asami continued to dance, humming and swaying and dipping him in time with the pop music.

Like a bride and groom on their wedding day, Asami circled the floor with his beloved baby in his arms, cherished and adored, twirling them around and around and around….

-


	61. Safe Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry if I am not myself lately, I may not answer comments as much as I used to or update as frequently but I still love you guys the most. Just going through my own stuff, like everybody does from time to time. Please be patient with my story. I know some of you feel its draggy, but I have to tell it my way. This part is important, even if it seems like it isn't. :) The action will pick up soon enough.

Akihito awoke suddenly, bolting upright in his bed. He felt disoriented and frightened, his heart was racing in his chest. He sat in the darkened room, staring at all the shadows cast by his nightlight. Something had awoken him. A strange noise. Something loud. Something frightening.

Before he could even reach out for Asami, he heard it again.

“DA-ADDY!!!” He screamed as loud as his lungs could manage. Asami bolted upright next to him, coming instantly awake and wrapping his arms around the smaller figure. He whimpered in fear and hid his head in his Daddy’s big strong chest, squeezing him back as tight as he could. Asami’s big strong arms were warm and comforting, but still... IT was out there.

The room was lit by a bright white flash and quickly followed by a thunderous booming noise. It was coming closer. His entire body shook in terror, his teeth beginning to chatter in his fear. Asami reached over and switched on the light, chasing away some of his shadows. He hauled him up onto his lap and held him tight, rubbing circles in his back and nuzzling his soft hair, “Its ok baby, its ok, nothing it going to hurt you, its just the storm, see?”

He could now see the rain lashing down against the window, coming in sheets, running in rivulets down the glass. The wind outside made it seem like it was coming from every direction, washing down from the sky in waves. It was almost dizzying. Like being underwater. Akihito whimpered again and Asami lifted him up out of the bed, still bundled up in the sheets like a little papoose and walked into the kitchen with the sheets trailing behind them. He turned every light in the house on as he walked through.

The abrupt shift distracted Akihito from his fear. Suddenly he was in warm light of the kitchen, a happy familiar place where he and Daddy had just made pizza together. Akihito grinned mischievously. It was one in the morning, WAY past his bedtime. He could still hear the rumble of the thunder but it felt much farther away now. He pulled the covers over his head just in case though.

“Better Little One?” Asami inquired almost sleepily as he moved around the kitchen in his black boxer shorts, his dark hair in disarray over his brow.

The pile of sheets sitting at the table with blue eyes peeking out responded, “B-better Daddy.”

He sat shivering under the blankets as Asami took out a saucepan and added thick cream to it. But then he began to add cocoa as it heated and Akihito knew what he was cooking. He flung the sheets off of him and padded over, clothed only in his diaper, “Hot chocolate?!”

Asami nodded and ruffled his hair. Akihito still couldn’t believe it. He was incredulous, “In the middle of the night? For ME?” He said pointing to his own bare chest. Asami bent down and nipped at his nose, “For you, my precious Little One.”

He handed Akihito the sippy cup of warm cocoa with the lid screwed down tight to prevent spills and then draped the sheet and blankets back over his naked shoulders. Akihito’s face beamed as he followed Daddy into the living room, his eyes fixed eagerly on the hot cocoa in his sippycup, little pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. The storm outside was getting worse. The deep guttural noise of thunder echoed through the penthouse, the lightning flashes growing in intensity, lighting the whole apartment. For a moment the indoor lights flickered. Asami turned around to see Akihito’s face. The boy looked stricken at the prospect of being engulfed in total darkness.

Asami put his finger to the side of his cheek as if in deep thought, “In times like these, I believe the proper protocol is to build a fort.”

The boy turned his head to the the side inquisitively, “A fort?” His voice was soft and breathy with his fear, but hopeful.

“Yes, a fort. Very important to build a fort during thunderstorms. Will you be my big helper and help me build a fort?”

Akihito nodded eagerly, impressed by the importance of the task Asami had placed on his small shoulders.

“First we must gather up all the cushions and the pillows in the house.” Asami held his hand as they went to the bedroom and then piled Akihito’s arms high with pillows and tucked two more under his own arms. They piled them on the floor and then Asami lifted the large seat cushions off the sofa, ottomans and chairs. Asami paused to consider the structure he wanted to built. He used the front of the sofa as the back wall and then erected two seat cushions vertically.

“Hold this for me Little One.” Asami held on and Akihito held the other, wide-eyed as Asami picked up the large long sofa cushion and placed it on top, the weight holding the other two upright and they in turn holding the long cushion aloft as the roof of a little house. He gasped in amazement as Asami used the bed pillows to fill in the back wall and make a padded floor. He then took one of Akihito’s sheets and draped it over the top, holding everything together and creating a door. He held it back and grinned at Akihito, “All done!”

The boy crawled into the little enclosed space and sat with his back to the couch front. Asami handed him his hot cocoa and then crawled in much more awkwardly, shrinking his large body as small as he could, aware that just one wrong move might bring the cushion fort crashing down on both of their heads. Akihito was unaware of the danger, he snuggled right into Asami’s side and began slurping his hot cocoa happily. The storm continued to rage outside, but enclosed in Asami’s arms, safe from the outside world, Akihito soon fell back asleep. Asami gently took the sippy cup from his lax fingers before he could drop it and pulled the sleeping boy into his arms. He tugged the blankets down from the top of the fort and wrapped it around Akihito body and then watched the lightning flash outside the window, watching it move further and further away to the south until it was just a ball of crackling energy far away in the clouds.

The grey light of dawn found them still in their fort, the sippy cup knocked over, the cushions in disarray and Asami’s arms still curled protectively about Akihito’s body.

The rain still fell steadily outside but it was not the frightening raging storm of the night before. That had passed and now all that was left was the rain, drizzling and falling in an ever constant pitter-patter. Akihito’s lower lip pooched out dismally all the way through breakfast and his Sunday morning cartoons and now he was sitting on the sofa with his knees pulled up to his chest, watching the rain continue to fall.

When it was sunny and nice out, they usually took a walk to the park. Asami felt it was important for Akihito’s mental development to get out and experience the real world, to not be shut up in the penthouse all the time. And Asami knew how much Akihito loved to go on those walks. He loved the bright signs and colors and people and smells. He had a little pink Hello Kitty camera that he would use to take pictures of everything. He was obviously disappointed that they couldn’t go. That little pouty lower lip said it all.

Asami grinned. He wasn’t going to let a little rain ruin their parade.

He moved over to the couch and sat beside him and threaded his fingers through his soft honeyed curls, “Whassamatter punkin?”

Akihito grunted and lowered his eyebrows crossly, “Stupid old rain. Stupid. Today is OUR special day Daddy. And the stupid rain ruined it.”

“How did it ruin our day? Its still Sunday Funday!! We can have play together indoors all day.”

Akihito sighed heavily and slumped his thin shoulders. Asami could tell he was well on his way to a full-on mope. “I know Daddy. But I was looking forward to the park and playing with the other children and then we were gonna get ice cream and I was gonna take pictures!”

Asami nodded resolutely, “Well then, thats what we are gonna do!”

Blue eyes went wide, “But how Daddy? Its RAINING!” He pointed to the drizzle outside like it was an insurmountable obstacle, a great wall trapping them inside the apartment.

He grinned, “We just have to turn into something that doesn't mind the rain”

“Daddy, we can’t do that.”

“Sure we can, come on Little One. Lets turn that frown upside down!”

Akihito’s button nose scrunched up and he giggled at the silly rhyme. The little blond held Asami’s hand as he followed him into the bedroom. He rummaged in the closet while Akihito stood behind him wiggling his little pink toes into the carpet.

“Aha! Found it!” He had bought Akihito a rain suit a while back, had seen it in a store window and knew the boy HAD to have it. It was a child’s rain suit but he knew the small teen could easily fit into an child’s XL. He just hadn’t gotten around to giving it to him yet.

He took out the lime green plastic suit and laid it on the bed. He even had matching rain boots and a matching umbrella. Akihito’s eyes got big, “For me Daddy? For me?”

“Absolutely, lets get you dressed up.” The boy was already wearing his Sponge Bob pajama pants, matching long sleeve shirt and bright blue socks. Asami decided to leave him in what he was wearing, the soft cotton would protect his skin from the plastic. He put the rain pants on and then sat him down and helped him tug on the rain boots. The rain coat was next, Akihito was squirming with excitement as Asami snapped the buttons closed. He then tugged the hood up over his blond hair and tightened it into place. Akihito was fidgeting uncontrollably now in his eagerness to see what he looked like in his new rainsuit.

He patted him on the hip, the squeaky plastic making a loud pop, “Go see in the mirror!”

Akihito ran across the room, every step the plastic rubbed together, creating a ‘Zip-zop-zip-zop ‘ sound. His jaw dropped in amazement as he looked in the mirror.

“I’m a FROG!”

Indeed he was.

He was dressed head to toe in lime green, dark green galoshes and from the hood on top of his head sprouted two googley eyeballs. It was a frog rain coat. Akihito grinned wide, “Ribbit-ribbit.” He knew the sound well from one of his ‘Match the Animals with the Sound’ games.

“Frogs don’t care about the rain do they?” Asami asked slyly, pulling on his own black books and buckling a long black trench coat around his waist.

Akihito shook his head adamantly, “No, frogs LIKE the rain.”

Asami held out his hand, “That they do. Ready to go my little Froggy?”

The rainy streets of downtown Shinjuku on a Sunday were nearly deserted. The rain plopped down on Asami’s black umbrella as the pair made their way down the empty street. Akihito didn’t want his umbrella so Asami carried it for him. The boy’s hood was pulled up snugly around his face and that as the only part of him exposed to the rain as he looked up and smiled into it, letting the droplets run down his cheeks and cling to his long lashes. Asami was entranced.

“Ribbit-Ribbit!” He chirped, hop-hop-hopping in the puddles. He splashed water and not a little bit of mud all over his galoshes and the hem of Asami’s trench coat. The older man just smiled and watched him play. What was a little mud on his shoes in comparison to that radiant smile?

When they got to the playground Akihito squealed with joy, “Its all for us today Daddy!”

And so it was. It was completely empty. There was a merry-go-round, slides and swings and horses on springs. Every surface was wet and rain trickled and dripped from the monkey bars but the little Froggie was undaunted. He squealed and ran and played, hopping in the every rain puddle he could find. Asami sat on the park bench and watched from under his black umbrella. From the corners of his eyes he could see his men positioned at all four corners also keeping watch. This was a very safe neighborhood. Asami controlled it completely. Even on sunny days, the playground was usually very crowded. The other families were used to Akihito by now and they didn’t mind the older boy playing with their young ones. The kids loved Akihito and accepted him completely. Every time they came to the playground the teen was swamped by the other children begging him to play with him. Akihito lit up from the inside, every time. It was unfortunate that no one was here today….

This was nice too though, there was a certain novelty about having the entire playground to themselves and Akihito not having to wait in lines for the slide or the swing set. Asami could have cleared the playground for him every day, but where was the fun in that? Learning how be patient and play with others was an important part of childhood, one that Akihito had missed out on the first time. Asami was determined to give the boy everything this time around, even if it meant Asami himself had to learn to share.

Across the playground, Akihito pumped his legs, trying ineffectually to get the swing started, “Push me Daddy!!”

The rain had nearly stopped and Akihito had pushed his hood off his head. His golden curls were springy from the humidity, his cheeks were flushed pink from playing and his blue eyes sparkled with joy. He was irresistible. Asami’s golden eyes were fixed on him as he strode across the playground. The boy tipped his head back once Asami stood before him and looked up at him so innocently, so trustingly. He didn’t think before he did it, he just cupped the boy’s head in his hands and bent to press his lips against Akihito’s. He watched those long lashes close submissively, just as his Princess used to do when he kissed him. For a moment Asami forgot himself and got lost in the moment. The kiss wasn’t one of the quick, chaste pecks he always gave his Little One. It was full of desire and longing, his lips hard against Akihito’s, his tongue invading the boy’s mouth. The moment Akihito sighed, his breath warm in Asami’s mouth, the older man realized that what he was doing was inappropriate and pulled away.

Akihito looked up at him innocently, his lips plump and moist from the passionate kiss, his cheeks flushed so prettily. He looked like he wanted to be kissed again. Fucking hell. Asami’s stomach churned with shame, “I’m so sorry baby.”

The boy cocked his head to the side in confusion, “For what Daddy?”

Asami shook his head, pressing his lips together, self-recrimination coursing through him. He felt like a bastard. He had just basically frenched a three year old. The little boy couldn’t understand something like that. He had done so well keeping his adult desire for Akihito’s body under wraps. It was getting harder. Akihito was so joyful, so happy these days and he had been acting a little bit older too. It was sometimes hard to remember that he… wasn’t himself. Sometimes he got caught up in his own emotions. Asami resolved not to let it happen ever again. Though his luscious body was that of an adult’s, Akihito was a child in the only way that mattered; in his head.

“Nothing punkin. You ready to touch the sky?” He moved around behind him and grinned down at Akihito’s upside down smiling face.

“Yes Daddy!”

“Ok Little One, feet up!”

Akihito squealed and kept his long legs out in front of him as Asami pulled him way, way back and then let him go. He shouted happily as Asami gave his plump bottom a push every time it swang back. “Higher, higher!!”

Asami grunted as he pushed against the boy’s hips, shoving him forward. The chains were squeaking as Akihito reached the top of the swing seat. “Yaaaaay!!!!”

The clouds were parting and between them was glimpses of bright blue sky. Akihito gazed up at it in rapture, “I can touch the sky Daddy! I can touch it!”

He stood behind him and smiled as Akihito took over and unconsciously began pumping his long legs, propelling himself higher and higher, all on his own. Asami's voice was soft, almost wistful as he murmured to himself, “Yes you can baby, yes you can.”

-


	62. Anal Stage

Akihito was supposed to be taking a nap. But he wasn’t. He was wide awake. 

He kept thinking about the way Daddy kissed him at the park. He had put his tongue in his mouth! He had never done that before. Akihito wondered what it meant. There had been a strange look in his eyes like a lion that wanted to gobble him up. All hot and wild and hungry. Just thinking about it made him feel funny in his tummy and all tingly in his little boy parts. 

Akihito kept sneaking glances at his Daddy from between the cracks in the cushions. He could see Daddy, but Daddy couldn’t see him. Asami was seated in his big leather armchair, reading the newspaper while the rain continued to pitter patter on the windows of the penthouse. Akihito had been cold when they got home from the park and Asami had run him a hot bath, after which they had had a yummy lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and then Daddy had helped him build another pillow fort for him to take a nap in. Akihito had gotten inside his pillow fort, but he wasn’t napping.

He was playing with himself and being very, very quiet. He was thinking about how nice it felt when Daddy touched his bottom. He loved it when he rubbed it with the warm washcloth on his bum and touched his hole. Akihito was touching his hole. It felt funny. Under his curious fingers it felt like a strange little puckered mouth that almost seemed to grab at the tip of his finger like it was hungry. He could squeeze it and release it and push his finger in just a little to wriggle it around. It felt really good to have something in there. But if he put his finger in his bottom, he couldn’t put his thumb in his mouth. Akihito liked having his thumb in his mouth too. He frowned in concentration, trying to solve his dilemma. 

Akihito remembered the markers he had left on the coffee table. One had fallen off and was laying on the ground just outside of his pillow fort. He slowly and carefully picked up the marker and then peeked through the cracks. Asami had laid down the paper but he wasn’t looking at Akihito. He had his eyes closed like he was sleeping. 

Akihito clapped his hand over his mouth as his eyes twinkled with amusement. HE was the one supposed to be napping, not Daddy! Akihito wanted to giggle at that but then he remembered that he had to be quiet or Daddy would wake up. He held the marker in his hand and rolled back over on his stomach, pushing his little shorts and pullups down. It was a child’s coloring marker, made for little hands to easily hold. It was shorter than his finger, but thicker. He twisted around and pushed the rounded tip against the little mouth of his hole. He still had to push a bit but the smooth plastic went in much easier than his finger. It went in deeper than he expected and Akihito gasped at the sudden intrusion, but as he relaxed he realized how good the feeling of fullness felt. Akihito let go of the marker, relishing the new sensations and squirming on the floor. His bum squeezed out the marker and he let it go and it hopped out, landing on his thigh and rolling to the floor. Akihito frowned. He wanted it to stay in. He would have to push it in deeper. He grabbed the marker and stuck it in his bottom again, sighing as it went deeper than the time before. He really liked how it felt inside him, stretching his butthole. It burned a little bit, but it made his bottom feel full and swollen. It made his peepee and tummy feel all tingly too, like when Daddy touched him there. Or when Daddy kissed him. 

Akihito pushed it a little further in, thinking about the kiss at the park, and then the marker touched something that made his whole body jolt. Akihito moaned, his face in the blankets. His bottom felt so good. He continued to push and suddenly the marker slipped from his grasp, taken all the way inside by that hungry little mouth. He felt frightened for a moment, touching his bumhole. It was tightened all the up around the marker, all he could feel was the silky smooth muscle closed over it. It was like it had disappeared completely. He shifted a little, wriggling side to side, humping his hips slowly against the soft blankets beneath him. He knew it wasn’t gone because he could still feel it inside him, stiff and hard. He felt so FULL! And it felt so good. Akihito wanted to ask Daddy if he ever played with his bottom but he didn’t want Daddy to know what he had been doing inside his pillow fort. He was supposed to have been napping.

The boy yawned tiredly. He had played very hard and it was so nice and warm in his pillow fort. He could hear the tinkling of the rain and the steady comforting sound of Daddy’s breathing. Akihito reached for his teddy and turned over onto his side, curling up onto his side. His shorts and pullups were still around his knees but he was feeling too comfy to worry about that just now. He knew he should find his pacifier, but he didn’t want to. He yawned again and popped the thumb of his other hand inside his mouth. It felt nice to be full on both ends. Akihito feel asleep slurping happily on his thumb and every now and then shifting to feel the hard fullness in his bottom.

Hours later, Asami woke with a start, still sitting upright in his armchair. The rain had finally stopped and the afternoon sun was glaring hotly in the window. He checked his watch in disbelief, it was after four. He couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep. He never took naps in the middle of the day and certainly not for two hours. He looked about the room for a moment in a panic, wondering where Akihito was but then he noticed a little socked foot protruding from underneath a pile of cushions. The boy seemed to have knocked over his cushion fort in his sleep. Asami knew he needed to wake Akihito up. He had already slept too long and Asami knew it would be a challenge to get him to go to bed on time tonight. Akihito depended on his routine to help keep his moods stable. 

Asami lifted the cushions and pillows off his little body until he could see him completely. Akihito lay curled on his side, sucking his thumb with his bare bottom completely exposed. He was wearing a little pink tank top and his short blue shorts and stretchy diaper was pulled all the way to his knees. He wondered why the boy had pulled his pants down. Were they wet? He felt the crotch of the diaper. It was completely dry. Maybe he had been hot? Or maybe he just wanted to be naked. Sometimes he took his eye off of him for just a minute and would turn back to see Akihito butt naked, his clothes discarded on the floor. Sometimes the innocent little boy just liked to be naked for the hell of it. Little nudist. Asami smiled lovingly and ran his hand through his honeyed curls before gently tugging his pants back up over his smooth round bottom. His shorts seemed shorter than Asami remembered. The hemline barely covered his milky thighs, so soft and smooth. He swallowed hard, trying to regain control over his body. 

He arranged all the sofa cushions and pillows back onto the couches and chairs and then knelt and slid his arms underneath Akihito, gently tipping him up and onto his back. Akihito blinked sleepily at him and then lifted his arms over his head in a languid stretch, arching his back and pointing his toes as he dropped his head back and yawned wide. His long pale throat was exposed. Asami wanted to bite it. He wanted to start at his toes and nibble every inch of his sensitive skin until Akihito was a quivering mess. He knew he couldn’t do that. But there were other things he could do.

Asami pulled up the front of his little tank top and buried his face in the hot flesh of Akihito’s naked stomach. He sealed his lips on the smooth skin and then blew into it. Akihito shrieked and squirmed to get away but he was no match against the much stronger man blowing raspberries into his stomach. Asami held him down and tickled and tickled him as he squealed and laughed, “No, no! Tickles Daddy! It tiiiiickles! No, no, no!”

His little socked feet kicked and he shrieked until he was out of breath, rocking his hips up and back and twisting until finally Asami stopped tormented his pretty tummy. He rested his dark head on the boy’s lap as Akihito panted and noticed something poking his ear. Something hard under the crotch of his shorts, under the padding of his diaper. Akihito had another erection. Asami drew a deep breath and sat up. What did it mean? These weren’t spontaneous erections, they were in reaction to something Asami had done. Both had occurred while he had been touching Akihito intimately, once on his stomach and the other on his bottom. But he had touched him those places before, while bathing and playing and cuddling and changing his diapers and Akihito had not reacted physically. Something had changed. Something was definitely different. Was Akihito’s older personality finally starting to peek through?

Akihito was slowly rocking his hips up as if seeking attention and his eyes were slightly dilated with arousal. Asami proceeded carefully, almost breathless with anticipation, “Whats the matter Little One?”

He stuck his hand down the front of his pants and rubbed himself unashamedly, “My pee pee feels good Daddy.”

Asami’s golden eyes fixed on the front of his little shorts where he could see Akihito’s hand pulling on his hard penis. He was rubbing and stroking himself clumsily, as if touching himself felt good, but he wasn’t sure what he was doing. His lower lip jutted out and he pushed his bottom against the floor, spreading his thighs wide as he did it. “I touched my bottom Daddy, that felt good too. R’Member? Like you said, when it feels good, makes my pee pee happy.”

The boy’s movements began to quicken. He squirmed and writhed as he shoved the other hand down the front of his pants and rubbed himself, rocking almost frantically. Asami didn’t know what to do. He did not want to stop him or tell him not to touch himself. From what he remembered, at this age it was normal for children to learn that touching their privates felt good. But for them it was no more shameful than scratching an itch on their elbow. He had to handle this right, he didn’t want Akihito to get the idea that touching himself was wrong or bad in anyway. But then he couldn’t have the boy grabbing his privates in public. 

He cleared his throat, still unsure of what to say when Akihito whimpered, looking up at him with large crystal tears in his eyes, “Daddy whats happening? Felt good, but now its hurts. Daddy, it hurts!” He whimpered again in frustrated confusion. Asami knew that it didn’t hurt in the literal sense, Akihito just didn’t know how to otherwise vocalize the uncomfortable, achey, frustrated sensation of needing to orgasm and not being able to. 

“Daddy please!” He begged.

Asami’s fingers twitched at his side, hesitating. He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t. But if he didn’t, would Akihito feel hurt? Would he feel abandoned and upset and unloved? And if he felt like that… what would happen then? Would he have another of his attacks? Would he regress again?

Akihito began to cry, tears running down out of the corners of his eyes and down to his ears, “Da-ddy! Help me!”

The older man couldn’t bear to see him so distressed. He sprang into action, moving to kneel over him and kissing his tears away, “Ssssh. Ssshh precious, I’ve got you, Daddy is going to make it all better. Everything is ok.”

Akihito looked up at him, hiccuping with his little hands still buried in the front of his shorts, cupping his painfully hard penis. Asami gently withdrew his hands one by one, pressing kisses to his reddened palms. “C’mere baby, come sit in Daddy’s lap.” He helped the boy rolled up onto his knees and then sat on the couch. Akihito stood in front of him uncertainly, his cock still tenting the front of his shorts. Asami gripped his hips in his large hands before pulling the boy’s shorts and Huggies down his long legs and helping him step out of them. The boy stood before him, naked from the waist down. His nipples were hard, poking against the thin fabric of his pink camisole. One of the delicate straps hung down his slender arm. His penis was weeping against his belly, little droplets running down the shaft. Akihito’s blue eyes were wet and searching, uncertain with shadows of fear deep inside. Asami knew he had to handle this right or he could severely damage the trust they had between them. 

He patted his thigh, “Sit here baby.”

Akihito perched his naked bottom on Asami’s hard muscled thigh, spreading his slender legs astride it, moaning as his butt pressed against it. Asami scooted him backwards and his back was pressed against his chest and then wrapped his arm around his waist to help stabilize him. He wet his lips, trying to keep his head clear. Akihito was sitting in his lap, pantsless, his little cock hard and needy, his blue eyes begging him to touch him and he couldn’t lay a finger on him. It was hell. Pure hell.

Asami licked his lips again and then reached around and took Akihito’s right hand in his. “I’m going to show you how to make it feel better Little One, but you have to do it yourself ok?”

“Uh-huh….”

“And I want you to understand that this is something everybody does, Mommies and Daddies, big boys and little boys, big girls and little girls.”

“Even you Daddy?”

“Yes, even me.” What he wanted to say was ‘Yes, especially me….at least twice, every night after you go to sleep.’ But he didn’t. 

“Its perfectly normal and healthy, but like going pee-pee or poo-poo, you don’t do it in public. You only do this around Daddy, ok Akihito?”

The boy nodded, his eyes as little fuzzy as he wriggled and slowly humped his naked bottom against Asami’s thigh, rubbing his cleft and balls on the fabric. Asami wasn’t sure how much he understood but Akihito wasn’t really in any condition to hear a lecture on the finer points of masturbation. He reached over sideways and grabbed some baby lotion off the side table. He held Akihito palm open and squirted the lotion in the center of it and then smoothed it all over his hand. Akihito looked up at him and he explained, “You always want to use lotion so you don’t hurt yourself honey.” He curled the boy’s fingers around his hard pink shaft and began to slowly guide his hand in forward and back movements. “Be gentle ok, don’t pull too hard and don’t bend it to the side. Its best if you use your hips to go in and out.”

Akihito gasped as he pushed his hips forward and then back, jutting awkwardly in and out of the circle of his hand where Asami held it. “Like this Daddy? Like this?”

Big blue eyes looked to him for approval and he nodded uncomfortably, his throat tight, “Yea baby just like that, keep going.”

His plump bottom was pressing forward and back on Asami’s leg and Asami could feel smooth hard flesh sliding inside Akihito’s hand where he was holding it. The boy was pressing his ass hard against his thigh, grinding and pushing until his fat little buttcheeks parted and Asami could see his little pink hole pressed directly against his pants. He groaned and look at the ceiling. 

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” He cried helplessly pushed himself back and forth, trying to finish himself off. Asami breathed deep, forcing himself to keep his hands off and let Akihito do it himself. The boy had always needed anal stimulation to find satisfaction. It had been that way the first time around too. Asami hoped perhaps this time might be different.

He curled his fingers a little tighter around Akihito’s hand, giving him a little more pressure and tugging on the sensitive head of his cock. Akihito eyes closed and he grunted, bearing down on his white teeth. His pale skin was covered in a sheen of sweet smelling sweat. Asami pressed his cheek to his back and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to lick it from his neck and spine. Akihito began to cry in helpless frustration, his shoulders shaking and his body trembling, “It HURTS Daddy! It hurts!!”

Asami immediately released his penis and took Akihito’s hand away from it too. “Da-dddy!!” He wailed, his blue eyes angry and upset and hurt. The boy’s cock stood red and angry between his pale thighs. “I’m going to have you try something else ok? You have to trust me. You trust Daddy don’t you?”

Akihito mopped his cheeks with the back of his hands, his thin voice quavering, “Ye-es”

Asami remembered the way Akihito had liked to masturbate himself as a young preteen. As a twelve year old, he had been able to figure it out on his own. It had been a little inelegant and Asami still remembered the surprise he felt when he walked in on him once, humping a pillow with his fingers stuck up his backside. It was an awkward position but for what Akihito needed to find his release, it was really the only way. Unfortunately, with Akihito trapped in the horny body of a teenager but with the memories and mind of a three year old, chances were, he wasn’t going to figure out how to do it on his own.

The older man pushed the coffee table away to give them more room and placed a soft cushion down on the carpet. He then took off Akihito’s camisole and spread the soft cotton over the top of the cushion. Asami guided Akihito to lay on his stomach over it. The boy obeyed, laying face down on the floor with his plump round buttocks raised high by the pillow, his erection pressed hard into the soft fabric, still slicked by the lotion. His thighs were parted and Asami could see his privates, the curve where his ass meet his legs. His milky white back and elegant spine. He licked his lips. Akihito looked so beautiful, so vulnerable… so fuckable. Asami palmed his hardness, trying to relieve some of the painful ache in his own groin and then wet his fingers, coating them with a thick layer of spit in his own mouth. He leaned over Akihito from behind, crouching over him and kissed his pink cheek. “I’m going to show you how to do this sweetheart and then I’m going to let you do it ok?”

Akihito nodded, his cheek rubbing on the soft carpet and he looked back trustingly, “Ok Daddy”

His bottom was raised high, exposing the pink crease of his crack and his slightly reddened hole. “Fuck”, Asami muttered under his breath, breathing hard and trying to keep control over himself. He was going to show Akihito how to stimulate his prostate with his fingers and then stop. He would stop and not touch him any further, let Akihito do it himself and from now on. Just this once he would just show him how. He licked his lips and wet his finger again and then pressed it against his furled asshole. Akihito cried out and humped his hips against the pillows. “Aah!” His sweet cries rose in volume and pitch as Asami breeched the opening of his body, “AAAAH!!!”

The tip of his finger gently massaged tight internal muscles, spreading his saliva inside the hole and easing its entrance until finally he was able to push past the sphincter. Akihito’s whole body jolted and he kicked his feet and wailed, “DAADDY!!”

Asami hardly heard him. His finger was stopped by something inside Akihito’s bottom, something hard and…. plastic? He felt around trying to figure out what it was, inadvertently driving the object forward and back against Akihito’s spongy inner walls. The boy was panting and wriggling, unable to hold still. Asami gritted his teeth and tried to slide his finger in alongside the cylindrical object. It felt like a pen maybe or…. his eyes flew to the box of markers on the table. One was missing. 

The boy had obviously inserted it a little too far. Why Asami didn’t know. Was it sexual? Hidden desires coming to the surface? Or was it simple childish curiosity? Young children put things in their bottoms, noses, mouth and even ears all the time and it didn’t have any to do with sex. Regardless, he needed to get it out of him. He didn’t want to hurt him or push it deeper. Asami poked and prodded, trying to get his finger alongside it but also pushing and prodding at the soft velvety walls of the boy’s hot insides. Akihito was going wild, clutching and humping his cock against the pillow, mindlessly chanting, “Oh Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!!”

He finally got around the marker, popping in alongside it. Akihito gasped as Asami pushed his finger in deep, stretching tiny hole much wider than the older man ever intended, “Nnngh! Ugggh!”

Asami stroked the pale quivering flesh of his round globes as he tried to extract the marker, crooking his finger around the end of it when suddenly Akihito gasped and twisted, his thighs going wide apart and his toes curled into the carpet. His head went back and his body arched against Asami’s hand as cum spurted all over the pillow. He spasmed a few times and then fell down on his belly, panting and breathing hard. Asami finally slipped the marker from inside him and stroked him gently, feeling the shivers than ran through his entire body as he came down from a powerful orgasm.

“Fuck.” He said quietly, raking his fingers through his hair. This was not good. He immediately realized the mistake he had made.

Akihito saw him as his father, a trusted adult. His caregiver. He had no business touching him sexually, masturbating him. He hadn’t intended for it to go so far. He had intended to prepare him gently, to show him how to penetrate himself without injury and then guide Akihito into taking care of it himself. His heart was racing in his chest as he thought about the ramifications of what they had just done. How would this affect his Little One? And more importantly, Akihito’s recovery of his memories. Asami breathed deep and tried to calm his racing heart while he rolled Akihito over and pulled him into his arms, gently mopping his sticky groin and belly with the clean side of the discarded tank top. 

“Mmmmh” The boy murmured pressing his cheek into Asami’s chest. Asami cupped his face in his hand and pulled the his long legs around until he was sitting sideways in his lap. He rocked him slowly side to side, kissing his flushed face, “Feeling better baby?”

“Yes Daddy.” Akihito yawned and then said in amazement, “It felt so good. Did you know? Did you know it would feel so good?”

Asami could not help the smirk that crossed his features, “Yes Little One, I knew.”

“Can we do it again?” Bright blue eyes looked innocently up at him. Asami’s golden eyes clouded with emotion he had to blink away. He bowed his dark head, “No Aki, no. We can’t do it again.”

“But… why not?”

“Well, because somethings aren’t appropriate to share between Daddies and their babies.”

Akihito protested, “But we share everything and you said sharing is good!”

Asami sighed. He could feel a headache coming on, “I did, I did say that didn’t I? And sharing is good, what I mean is that somethings are supposed to be private, like picking your nose or burping or going potty, and you shouldn’t do those things in front of others.”

He cocked his pretty blond head to the side, “Is it bad?”

“NO. No sweetpea its not. Its not bad, or wrong. Its something that every healthy little boy needs to do sometimes and its supposed to feel good. I just- We just can’t do it together is all.”

“But Daddy, we do everything together!”

“Well, this is something you have to do on your own.”

“But why?”

“Because you have to.”

“But WHY?

Asami’s voice filled with frustration as he reprimanded him, “Akihito! Because I said so, thats why!”

The boy shrank from him like he had been slapped, his sensitive feelings hurt, “I’m sorry Daddy.”

Asami instantly regretted his harsh tone. Akihito’s lower lip was trembling and tears pooled in his jewel-like eyes. Asami’s heart was filled with remorse and he hugged Akihito close, “Oh Little One I’m so sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong baby. You didn’t do anything wrong, its just somethings are private ok. Thats all I meant, that was all.”

The boy’s head nodded under his chin, soft hair tickling Asami’s throat. He murmured to him, “I love you so much. I think you are perfect, just how you are. You know that right?”

His voice was still small, it was still shy but not hurt, “Yes Daddy.”

“Good precious, now, how about a snack?”

Akihito looked up eagerly, “Pancakes?”

A dark eyebrow arched, “For dinner?”

The beautiful blond nodded eagerly. He supposed there wasn’t any harm. Asami smiled and ruffled his hair, “Alright baby, for dessert. But you have to eat all your chicken nuggets and vegetables first.”

“Aaaaaw. Da-ddy!”

-


	63. Pink Boy

Late that night after Akihito was fast asleep, Asami slipped from the bedroom and called Kuroda. It only rang once before his friend picked up and he immediately apologized, “I’m sorry for calling so late.”

The doctor’s voice was thick with sleep but it quickly cleared, “No its fine, whats going on? Is Akihito alright?”

Asami nodded unconsciously, “Yes he’s fine, I just need your advice. Today, Akihito stuck a marker in his bottom.... Like a coloring marker.”

Kuroda coughed awkwardly and was silent for a moment, “I see.”

Asami waited impatiently, “And? Should I be worried? Does this have to do with his trauma and abuse? Or is this the breakthrough we’ve been hoping for; Akihito’s older self starting to re-emerge?”

“Well, I’m not a psychologist Asami, but I do know quite a bit about childhood sexual development and most likely its neither. Its just normal behavior for a child around his age.”

“The boy stuck a marker up his bottom. That is not normal behavior for a three year old!”

Kuroda disagreed, “Actually it is. Children are curious about the world around them. They tend to reach for and touch everything they can get their hands on. They are curious about their bodies, other people's bodies, gender roles, and fascinated by almost everything related to sexuality. This is a critical time period for him when he will start to pay attention and learn the difference between men and women. He’s naturally going to start becoming interested in his privates and most specifically, the openings of his body at this age.”

Asami listened intently, trying to remember how this had gone the first time around. Akihito had been far more interested in playing with his bottom than his penis as a child too. But to his recollection he couldn’t remember him ever sticking anything but his fingers up it. Penetrating himself with an object was new. “Does this have anything to do with Akihito’s gender dysphoria?”

The doctor answered immediately, “Akihito does NOT have gender dysphoria. He’s not transgender; believing that he is a girl that was born in the wrong body. Akihito is what is known as a ‘Pink boy’. Akihito knows he is a boy and wants to be a boy, his preferences exist in what could be called ‘the middle space’ between traditional boyhood and traditional girlhood. Most of society clings hard to what is known as the binary model of gender. This is the division of gender into two distinct, opposite and utterly disconnected classifications of male and female, based solely on their sexual organs. This binary model has resulted in strict social boundaries set in place that discourage people from crossing or mixing the pre-established gender roles. Fortunately, many psychologist now argue that gender is a spectrum rather than two opposing categories, neither of which any man or woman precisely fits into. Society has also begun the shift, starting with the feminist movement and resulting in a culture that now allows far more gender freedom for women than in the past. Departures from traditional femininity are pervasive now and readily accepted. Girls who act like boys are often praised for such behavior, for wanting to wear pants and play sports and roughhouse. The gender spectrum is often much easier for parents of girls to accept. On the other hand, boys who act like girls are considered an embarrassment, punished and stigmatized. Why the difference? One might say that it is the Pink boys who are being discriminated against but when you looks closer at the problem, you will see that it is not prejudice against the boys but rather, in fact, a deep seated misogyny against women. The persecution of Pink boys in our society is sexism against women at its most subversive. During the last forty years, the idea of a girl behaving “like a boy” almost completely lost its stigma but the shift did not go the the other way. Why? Because being male is still seen as inherently _better_ than being female. In society’s eyes, girls _gain_ status by taking on traditional male roles, while boys are brought down in status by any hint of femininity. When a boy wants to act like a girl, people subconsciously assume something is wrong with him because why would anyone want to be the _lesser_ gender? Being feminine is still seen as inherent less than being male. The masculine is glorified while the feminine continues to be denigrated. That is why society has no place for Pink Boys. Its horrifically misogynistic, though ironically, targeted at boys.”

Asami could feel his eyes opening and was ashamed of himself. He had also seen Akihito as weaker and lesser because of his feminine proclivities. And he had treated him accordingly. He passed a hand in front of his eyes and cleared the tightness in his throat, “So Akihito is not transgender… he is a Pink boy.” He found he quite liked the term, it fit Akihito far better in his mind than transgender.

Kuroda affirmed, “A Pink boy is a boy who knows he is a boy and wants to be a boy, but often acts like a girl. Akihito fits squarely on the middle of the gender spectrum, he is a boy who loves to wear dresses, paint his nails and play with dolls. His favorite color is pink and yet, he has a penis. You have to remember for a young child, their gender has nothing to do with their sexual organs. He doesn’t want to be male or female. Just himself. All he knows it what he likes. Children learn gender roles from the world around them. ‘Little’ Akihito has no idea right now what his penis is for, other than peeing, all he knows is that it feels nice when he touches it. The same for his bottom. He doesn’t understand the idea of penetrative intercourse or sex, he likely was not even trying to masturbate himself when he inserted the marker, Akihito was simply exploring a sensation that felt nice to him-”

Asami interrupted, “But he did become aroused from it though, almost painfully so.”

“Really? And how did you handle that?”

His voice was filled with self recrimination, “Well, I explained to him that what he was feeling was normal and that there was nothing wrong with relieving himself. But he was frustrated, unable to masturbate himself. I could tell he was uncomfortable. I only meant to show him how to take care of it but things went a little too far.”

The doctor’s voice was filled with concern, “How far?”

“While I was touching him I found the marker and when I attempted to remove it, I brought him to orgasm.”

“Unintentional?” Kuroda’s voice was suspicious.

Asami swore at him, “Yes! Fuck!”

“Hmmm…..”

His voice trailed off leaving Asami full of frustration, “Kuroda, did I screw him up even more? Did I hurt him?”

The doctor answered him honestly, “Asami, I don’t know. I’m not an expert in this sort of thing, you should really get a trained psychiatrist…”

“I only trust you.”

“Was he hurt or upset and frightened by the experience?”

“No.”

“Then there’s probably no harm done. The boy expressed a curiosity, he had a need and you fulfilled it for him. You did not touch him against his will or coerce him, thats the most important thing here, although you did still cross the line concerning his mental age. You need to make sure it does not happen again. Not ever. I am extremely worried he could become sexually fixated on you. A child’s first sexual experience can have a dramatic impact on them, and children do not have the inhibitions adults do. They don’t know how to control their desires and ‘Little’ Akihito already has the cards stacked against him by the fact that he inhabits a hormonally charged teenager’s body at its sexual peak. He has affection for you, faith and trust, and is completely dependent on you. Combining those intense feelings of love and dependency with sexual pleasure could create an obsessive fixation in Akihito’s childlike mind. You will have to walk a fine line, encouraging him to explore himself and his healthy urges while remaining completely detached. You must not initiate contact or touch Akihito sexually. You should discuss with him the potential harm of inserting foreign objects into his rectum and assist him in finding sexual satisfaction on his own. I would recommend some sort of toy.”

Asami was incredulous, “You want me to buy Akihito a dildo?”

Kuroda coughed awkwardly but his tone remained clinical, “Yes, I believe some sort of vibrator, an inanimate object on which he can focus his sexual desires, would be highly preferable to him fixating on you. You need to foster the boy’s understanding that his body belongs to him, not to you. That he is in charge of his sexual release, not anyone else. This is an important lesson that most parents miss when raising females, due to the often penetrative nature of their pleasure. They completely ignore their sexual needs or worse, forbid them from penetrating themselves, and by doing so often teach them that their pleasure comes from the outside world and is dependent on a man. Its an incredibly damaging lesson. A safe toy designed for self-stimulation is a much better alternative to early intercourse or unsafe, possibly unsanitary objects but most parents chose to pretend the sexual needs of their daughters do not exist because it makes them uncomfortable. A toy would keep Akihito from potential injury should he again attempt to self stimulate with an object not meant to be inserted in the rectum.”

He swore again, “Fucking hell.”

“This isn’t a bad thing. Ryuichi, you aren’t seeing the good here; Dissociative Identities don’t age. They don’t ‘grow’ up. Its a specific thought pattern that remains the same. So if Akihito is changing and acting older, it means that he has mentally jumped to an older age and or his ‘Little’ construct is starting to break down and become reassembled with his older personality. I can’t be certain, but I would say his awakened sexual feelings most likely mean you are making progress with him. I would say just keep doing what you are doing. Just keep loving him, making him feel safe and wanted. But you must continue treating him in accordance to the age Akihito believes he is. Little boys touch themselves. A lot, actually. Its normal and parents often struggle at this age to keep those curious little hands out of their pants. The important thing is not to make him feel ashamed of it, do not initiate sexual contact with him and do not allow him to fixate sexually on you.”

“I understand.”

“Please call me should anything else arise. Let me know the moment anything changes.”

Asami thanked him and hung up the phone with a click, the screen that had illuminated the room went dark and Asami was left in almost total blackness. It only took his eyes a few moments to adjust though he didn’t need them to find his cigarettes and his lighter. Asami didn’t smoke in front of Akihito anymore, but he was far from reformed. The consummate smoker took a deep drag of thick smoke into his lungs and let it curl out, soothing his irritated nerves. The idea of buying Akihito a sex toy repelled him. There was a part of him that felt outraged by the idea. If Akihito needed sexual fulfillment, _he_ should be the one to give it to him. He should take care of his boy’s needs. And yet, he understood. He had no place interfering with Akihito’s sexual development. He had done quite enough damage the first time.

He ended up ordering the toy like Kuroda suggested, a little pink one with a handle that was curved and fat like an anal plug, unable to be fully inserted. It would be easy to use and the color would appeal to Akihito. Asami leaned back in his chair and sighed, his shoulders taut with tension. He poured himself a shot of whiskey. And then another. And then another.

Asami was two sheets to the wind when he finally gave into temptation and took out the soiled pink tank top. The belly of it was covered in Akihito’s cum. He held it in both hands and breathed deeply, inhaling the musky scent of the boy’s release. The raging lust had not gone away and the fire in his loins was rekindled by the smell of Akihito’s arousal, flaring until it burned wildly inside him. He lifted it to his face and buried his nose in it. It wasn’t enough. He could still feel Akihito’s smooth hot flesh in his hand, the heat of his sex pressing against the thigh, the way he had whimpered at called out his name as he had stroked his delicate insides….

The older man threw back another shot of whiskey and stumbled into the bedroom.

Akihito was laying on his back, the light coming from the window illuminated his face and his hair look almost silver. He looked like a sleeping angel, laying on his side. His lips were parted as he breathed in, sleeping the deep sleep of the truly innocent. He was bare to his waist, the covers also kicked off of his long slender legs. They were so smooth and soft. A calloused hand covered his delicate ankle, gripping it gently before sliding slowly up his toned calf, delving into the delicate hollow behind his knee and then sliding up his thigh. Its path was stopped only by blanket covering his groin. One dainty hand was laying palm up, just over the edge of the bed.

The older man stood over the bed and fumbled with the opening of his pants, releasing his raging erection. The length of it cast a shadow over Akihito’s cheek. It was steel hard and hot as a branding iron, his balls were heavy and full. He placed the throbbing head of his erection in the cup of Akihito’s palm, rocking his hips and gently nudging his hardness into that soft skin. That was all it took.

Asami came hard, spurting thick white strands of cum into Akihito’s hand, filling it until it overflowed and dripped down onto the bed. He gasped and gripped the bedpost hard as the most powerful orgasms he had had in over half a year swept over him and made him weak in the knees.

Akihito slept right through it.

As soon as the lust cleared from his mind, a strong wave of regret washed over him. Shame and guilt and self hatred. He pushed himself back into his pants and knelt beside the bed, fumbling to clean his sticky spend off of Akihito’s hand and slender fingers. Asami bowed his head and inhaled at the babysoft skin of his wrist, the point where the pulse beat strongest. He kissed the indentation, murmuring against it, “I love you so much.” He kissed the swell of the boy’s small palm, cupped gently in his own strong hands. Asami’s voice was broken as he whispered against it, “Please come back to me Princess, please. I need you baby. I need you so much. I’m sorry, I just can’t anymore. I need you…”

-


	64. Confusional Arousal

That night Asami had a dream; the most vivid dream he could ever remember. Akihito stood at the foot of his bed, his golden hair glowing around him like an angel. The curls descended to his slender waist as if they had never been cut. His blue eyes shined clear and bright as if he had never been damaged. He looked at Asami with love in his eyes, as though he had never been hurt.

Asami sat up in his bed and gazed at him. “Princess.” He breathed in rapture.

Akihito smiled. “Hello Ryuichi.”

He stood before him with confidence, addressing him as an equal. He was not shy or cowed or frightened. He stood with his entire body radiating joy and confidence, in a way Asami had never seen him before, never even imagined seeing him. The beautiful boy was wearing a stunning dress, nothing like Asami had ever seen him wear before. It was red, blood red, and molded so tightly to his curves it was like a second skin. His cock immediately sprang to attention as the boy walked around the bed, trailing his fingers over the bedcovers. His hips swayed side to side seductively, the luscious curves making Asami's mouth go dry. Akihito moved to his side and trailed the sharp nail down Asami’s chest, scraping the naked skin and leaving a bright red mark over Asami's scar. The gorgeous blond smiled hauntingly, “Did you miss me?”

Asami reached desperately for him and groaned as he thumbed Akihito’s plump lower lip and caressed the downy skin at the back of his neck, “More than anything. More than you can imagine.”

Akihito leaned down and breathed into his mouth, “I missed you too.” He kissed Asami the way Asami had always dreamed he would. He kissed him with desire and passion and love. He kissed him as if he finally knew what Asami had known all along; that Asami belonged to him in every way, all the ways that Akihito belonged to Asami. Blue eyes looked at him seductively from underneath smoky lashes as he slipped one delicate strap off his shoulder and then the other.

“Do you want me?”

He almost panted his answer, “God baby you know I do.”

Aki stood and reached behind his back never taking his eyes off Asami's. Asami could hear the soft whir of the zipper being released and then the slinky red dress fell to the floor and pooled around his pretty feet. His throat felt dry, his mouth parched as he watched all of that smooth bare skin revealed; Akihito dressed only in a barely there cherry red thong, lace straps caressing his dainty hip bones and cradling the hard flesh between his legs. He parted his mile long legs and moved to straddle Asami, his weight pressing against the now painful throbbing in Asami’s groin. The boy softly ground their cocks together through the moistening fabric. Asami reached for him, his hands trembling with the need to take, own and fuck but Akihito’s sharp blue eyes stilled his movements more effectively than a pair of handcuffs. He smiled slyly, shaking his finger.

He crawled up Asami’s body like a cat, purring, “How do you want me Ryuichi? Do you want me under you? You want me to let you take control? You want to take me, make me yours again?”

Akihito held his gaze calmly and confidently as he taunted him, holding the reins so confidently it took Asami’s breath away.

He nodded, his golden gaze hypnotized and hungry.

Akihito leaned down, his breath hot on Asami’s lips. The older man breathed in his intoxicating scent and Akihito smirked, his blue eyes so bold and beautiful it nearly took Asami’s breath away. The blond whispered, his voice low and husky and filled with sin, his tongue curling out and brushing Asami’s lips, “Then have me Daddy, have me because I want you to have me. Not because I have to, not because you forced me, have me because submitting to you is what I choose, what I want. I choose to give myself to you, because I love you and I trust you. Take me because I give myself to you.”

The words Asami himself did not even know he needed to hear roared like blood in his ears; thumping and pounding in his brain until it was empty and nothing was left but Akihito’s words. He stared at the boy helplessly. The words he had spoken soaked into the fabric of his soul, washing it clean, unlocking all the pain in his heart and erasing all the years of mistakes he had made with his beautiful boy. He gasped and pressed his lips against Akihito’s, parting them roughly with his mouth, pressing his tongue inside to seek out the sweet heat that lay inside. Akihito moaned in submission and Asami rolled over, trapping that perfect tiny body beneath his own hard masculine frame. He pressed his cock hard into the cradle of Akihito’s hips, grinding against him as he ravaged his mouth, twining his fingers in that long glorious mane of hair. Akihito’s arms were wrapped around him just as tightly. His Princess. His. Not because Akihito had to be. Because he wanted to be.

Asami wanted to sob with joy.

And then he woke up.

He was on top of Akihito, crushing the boy’s slight frame into the bed, pressing his erection against him, his tongue deep in the boy’s plush mouth. Aki moaned helplessly, writhing underneath him. Asami gasped and ripped his lips away. Akihito looked up at him, his blue eyes clear and blank, utterly lacking in understanding, but still heated with arousal. In Akihito’s head, he was the same sweet innocent boy that had saved Asami’s life, that had dressed up in pink dresses and painted pictures of princesses with glitter. He was a child, incapable of understanding what Asami was doing to him and even less capable of giving any kind of consent.

Consent.

It was one thing Akihito had never given to him. No matter what age, the boy had always been taken by Asami, forced. Asami looked into those beautiful blue eyes and he finally understood what it was he wanted from Akihito; consent.

He might as well wish for the moon. Akihito would never give it to him. As he was, he could not. And once he remembered what Asami had done, he _would_ not.

This was the most of Akihito he could ever hope for. All he could ever have. All this time, all he had wanted was for Akihito to be himself again. And yet, the moment that happened, he knew Akihito would turn from him and he would lose him forever. But Asami never wanted to _take_ anything from Akihito ever again, he wanted Akihito to give it. And so, the only thing he could do was accept whatever small part of himself Akihito could give and be grateful for the scraps. He had no right to ever even hope for anything more. A hot wet feeling arose behind his eyelids, resting tight in his throat as he reached down a trembling hand, “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to roll over on you and squish you. Are you alright?”

Akihito nodded, “S’okay Daddy. Were you dreaming?”

“I was. It was a very nice dream. Sad though.”

A small hand reached up to touch his cheek, “Don’t be sad Daddy, I love you.”

Asami’s heart hitched in his chest and his scar ached, “I know Little One, I know you do.”

He rolled off of him and checked Akihito over, the boy was fine, his delicate body unharmed by Asami’s mauling of him. He looked up at him and spoke in a shivering little voice, “D-addy, I think maybe I wet myself..”

His pretty lower lip wobbled tremulously and Asami scooped him up, carrying him to the bathroom. It was lit dimly by one of Akihito’s many night lights, this one was shaped like a ducky. Asami did not turn on the lights completely because he was hoping that after his diaper change Akihito might go right back to sleep. The boy yawned contentedly as Asami laid him on a soft mat and pulled his soiled diaper off. He was too tired to get upset over his accident like he usually did. It hadn’t really felt like an accident anyway, it felt so good. Daddy had been on top of him, kissing him and rubbing him and his pee-pee had felt good and he had burst in his diaper from all the good feelings. He liked it when Daddy kissed him. He liked it when he did other things too. Akihito hoped he might touch his bottom again.

Akihito watched with sleepy eyes as Asami cleaned him up with a warm cloth. The stuff in his pants had felt sticky and funny, not like when he wet himself usually. And his penis felt much too sensitive to touch. He squirmed in discomfort as Asami cleaned gooey white stuff from his privates, trying to close his legs.

“Hurts Daddy”

“I know punkin, but I have to get you clean or you’ll get a rash.”

“Okay Daddy.” He said the words in a yawn, too tired to fight it. He felt silly and loopy and exhausted. Akihito fell asleep before Asami had even finished cleaning him up.

The older man picked him up carefully and transferred his sleeping Little One back into bed where he belonged. He decided to take his chances and not to put a diaper back on him, it had been a while since Akihito had wet the bed. He gently tucked the boy's naked body under the warm covers and waited for a long moment to make sure Akihito was sound asleep before leaving the bedroom and heading to the balcony for a smoke.

His golden eyes looked down over the city he held in his hands as smoke curled from his mouth. There was nothing out of his reach. Nothing he could not have if he wanted it. Nothing but the one thing he wanted. Akihito. So close and yet so far. Completely unobtainable. Like a Princess trapped in a tall tower and Asami the Dragon charged with guarding her. A monster who had fallen in love with her, destined to ache for her with every fiber of his being, to possess her completely and yet never be able to reach her. In the fairytales it was the charming Prince who was the one who got to be with the Princess, who rescued her from the Dragon and took her to her Happily Ever After.

Asami knew there was no Happily Ever After waiting for a man like him. He wasn’t the Prince in this fairytale. His sad amber eyes looked out blindly over the midnight lights of Tokyo but all he could see was the light of his precious boy’s smile. The light in his eyes. The light of his life.

-


	65. Phallic Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok five more chapters until the Magician comes into the picture. I swear these chapters have a point. LOL.

The next day Asami watched Akihito like a hawk to see if anything had changed. Nothing had, not as far as he could tell. The boy was as happy as a well fed kitten, playing happily and cuddling with Asami as if nothing unusual had happened the day before. Everything seemed normal and for that he thanked his lucky stars. Akihito was currently humming to himself and coloring pictures while Asami worked at his desk. He seemed fine, but still, Asami couldn’t quite manage to keep himself from checking on him every other minute.

Akihito was fine. But he had a goal. He wanted to see Daddy’s penis. He had felt it last night, so big and hard pressed into his soft stomach, it had made him feel all warm and tingly inside. He had seen it before of course, lots and lots of times. He and Daddy often went to the bathroom together and dressed together and took baths together. So he had seen it of course, but he wanted to see it when it was big. Akihito was fascinated by his own penis, the way he could touch it and it would change. It felt nice, especially when Daddy touched it. Akihito wanted to touch Daddy’s penis and make it big.

He thought while he drew a picture of Daddy and him playing together on the bed last night. He had a plan and he thought it was a very good plan. Daddy hadn’t taken a bath with him in a while and so Akihito was going to pretend like he was frightened of the water like he used to be and trick Daddy into getting into the bathtub with him and then he was going to touch Daddy between the legs and make him hard so he could see how big it was. He bet it was pretty big.

Akihito was done drawing. He liked his picture. The boy plopped his cheek in his hand and watched his Daddy working on his desk. He had a pen in his hand and was drawing something on a piece of paper. Akihito wondered what he was drawing. He stood with his paper in hand and went to see what Daddy was doing. The older man stopped immediately once Akihito came up next to him. “Whats up baby boy?”

“I drew a picture of us.” Akihito pushed it in front of Asami while he climbed up in his lap and clung to his neck. He wanted to be held. Big strong arms closed around him but they stiffened when Asami looked at his drawing.

“Akihito…. what’s this?”

The boy yawned tiredly, he had not slept well the night before, “Is us Daddy.”

It was them alright. Akihito had drawn Asami laying on top of him in bed and the two figures were… anatomically correct, to say the least. Asami’s penis was enormous, nearly half the length of his body, with two giant circles at the base which he could only assume were his balls. More cocks and balls were doodled in the corner, making it perfectly obvious what Akihito had been thinking about while he was drawing. It was the kind of picture that had a preschooler drawn it, his teacher would have had some serious questions. He had some serious questions.

He waited until Akihito was down for his nap, sleeping peacefully before calling Kuroda.

It rang twice. He didn’t even bother saying hi.

“Akihito is drawing penises.”

Kuroda was silent.

“This is my fault isn’t it? Because I touched him and now he’s obsessed with his penis. And possibly mine.”

The voice on the other end of the line was filled with not a little bit of exasperation, “Ryuichi, kids draw penises. They draw naked people, they draw boobies. They draw what they see and what interests them and every child is interested by naked bodies, their own and other people’s. You need to calm down and relax. This most likely means absolutely nothing.”

Asami suddenly felt rather foolish, he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I see.”

“But then again, there is the possibility that he is becoming preoccupied with sex. Many children do at this age, they can even become obsessive. I still believe that Akihito’s care would best be handled by a psychiatrist trained in both children’s psychosocial development and in dealing with regression issues. I am concerned about the amount of time that has gone by without Akihito having even one lapse in his ‘Little’ mentality. I know you have made a lot of progress with him since the beginning, but you may have hit a plateau in how far you can aid his recovery. Ryuichi, if you respect my expertise as a clinician at all, will you at least consider letting someone else help you?”

Asami looked down at the boy’s innocent sleeping face and then back to the paper in front of him, the dark figure crouched over the small blond boy on the bed. The enormous penis in between them. It was practically symbolic of everything that had ever been wrong in their relationship. He sighed heavily and then replied reluctantly, “Yes. I will consider it.”

Kuroda sounded pleased, “Excellent. Check your email later today. I have compiled an exhaustive report detailing the clinician whom I believed is by far the best equipped to handle Akihito’s unique issues. He is the one I have treating Momohara. She’s only been in his care for a few months and he has already made extraordinary progress with the girl.”

His interest was peaked, “What kind of progress?”

“Well, it took us quite a while to wake her from her coma but even once she was awake, she was completely catatonic; extremely depressed to the point she would not move or respond to her environment in any way. She did not eat, she did not appear to hear what was said to her or even see what was in front of her. Months with our therapists in the hospital did little to alleviate her stupor but after only a few short weeks with the psychiatrist I mentioned, she is now able to dress herself, groom herself, eat, walk and interact minimally with the attendants. She is still not speaking, but I am hopeful for a breakthrough on that any day now. The institution is gorgeous, located only one hour outside of Tokyo overlooking the Arakawa river-”

“Institution?” Asami said with a growl.

Kuroda sighed, “Yes Ryuichi, he treats his patients in an institution, though he prefers to call it a community care center. Much of his therapy is centered around the interaction between peers and feels it is important to administer their therapy free from outside influences. There are a little over a hundred in-patients, all with dissociative disorders, mostly regression based, just like Akihito. Akihito would have a chance to interact with lots of different people with similar issues to his own, he would make friends and have the opportunity to participate in social activities. There is a high staff to patient ratio and he would be under the constant care and supervision of an extraordinary psychiatrist that I think-”

“No, absolutely not. I will not send Akihito away. I would never do that to him. He needs me.”

“Does he need you or do you need him?”

“He needs me Kuroda, I can’t even imagine how traumatic it would be for him to uproot his from his home and send him away to be taken care of by strangers. You are out of your mind if you think I would even consider it.”

Kuroda sounded exasperated, “Then I suppose you are willing to accept Akihito being like this indefinitely, is that it? Is that really what you want for him?”

“No one will ever love Akihito the way I do. No one can care for him as well as I can or protect him the way I can.”

“Ryuichi! Listen to yourself! Is this even about Akihito or is this about making up for your past mistakes and assuaging your guilt for the role you played in what happened to him? I stood by in the beginning because I knew that this was what you both needed but I cannot stand by anymore. Refusing to get Akihito the professional help he needs is neglect. Its abuse and its wrong. I only hope you realize that before its too late-”

Asami hung up the phone before he said something he would truly regret. His teeth were gritted so hard, his jaw muscles were aching. The click of the receiver woke Akihito up and he peered up at Asami with big blue eyes through his shaggy blond hair.

The large man could feel the tension instantly ebb from his body and he smiled at the sight of him, “Come here baby.”

Akihito slowly crawled out from under his desk and stumbled sleepily into his lap. Today he was wearing a cute little floral print sundress that covered him to his adorable knees and pink ballet shoes on his pretty feet. His hair was so long now it was falling into his eyes. Asami rummaged through the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a hairbrush and a pink headband. He swept the soft blond locks back and then pressed the headband into his hair to hold his bangs back out of his eyes. “Thanksh Daddy.” Akihito said, snuggling into his chest once he was done.

He wondered if the boy could hear his heart thumping in his chest. The accusation that he was neglecting and abusing Akihito was ringing in his ears, both alarming and paining him. But it was ridiculous. Kuroda just didn’t understand. He had rearranged his entire world around Akihito, he did nothing without thinking of the boy first. He put Akihito before himself, always. There was no child on earth less neglected or abused than Akihito. It was ridiculous. Asami buried his face in the boy’s soft shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent. “I love you sweetheart, you must know how much I love you.”

Akihito twisted, placing one smooth palm on Asami’s roughened cheek, “I know Daddy. I know you love me. You tell me all the time.”

He grinned at Aki’s matter of fact answer, “Oh do I?”

His Little One nodded earnestly.

Asami decided to test him, “Do I love you more than the sky?”

“Yes”

“Do I love you more than the sun?”

“Uh-huh..”

“How about the moon and the stars?”

Akihito rolled his eyes at Asami's silly questions, “Daddy! You love me more than anything on heaven or earth!”

The older man grinned, “That is exactly right. Now, how about we blow this joint and go get some ice cream, just you and me?”

That radiant smile was all the answer Asami needed.

-


	66. Tantrum

Akihito and Asami held hands on the way to the ice cream shop, ignoring the men flanking them from all sides, clearing the pedestrians from their path. It was a little shop with pink walls and a big ice cream cone out front that Akihito always marveled at because it was nearly as tall as he was. The shop was run by a sweet old lady who always gave Akihito an extra scoop.

Asami couldn’t help but notice that Akihito looked more beautiful than ever. He was still tiny, but Asami could tell he was a little taller, his shoulders just a little broader. His toned arms and tiny waist and infinitely long legs made him look like a model. Akihito was a stunning mix of extraordinary feminine beauty with just a hint of the masculine that only added to his allure. He was utter perfection, without even trying in his little sundress. The way his hair was held back by the pink headband made the soft loose curls frame his lovely face, his high cheekbones covered by the slightest blush, his petite, elegant facial structure accentuated by the way his hair was pulled back. He bounced next to Asami with a spring in his step, hopping over the cracks in the sidewalk and holding onto the other man's hand. His skirt was modest, but every now and then when he jumped, the fabric floated up, exposing smooth milky thighs. Asami wanted to put a bullet in the brain of every man who looked at his legs. The man who dare to whistle at the boy got pulled into the alleyway by Toru and Ando for a lesson in manners and that at least perked Asami up a bit.

Akihito stopped at a display of sunglasses in the window of a 100 yen shop, tugging excitedly on Asami's hand. He pointed to a pair of pink cat eye frames.

“Daddy can I have those? Please?”

The older man drew a deep breath. He had never allowed Akihito to go inside a shop before, generally he sent his men in to make the purchase and that was that. All the parenting books he read said that shopping could be a very overwhelming experience for a toddler. There were just so many things to see and look at and their curiosity often got the best of them. They couldn't differentiate their wants from their needs and had difficulty being reasonable. Every child has big feelings in public places from the overstimulation of people and objects and sounds. That was the way children were built, soaking the world all in with no filter to help them discern what was important and what wasn’t. And when they become overstimulated, they become emotional. And when children become emotionally charged, they can’t think. They simply can’t function normally. They want unreasonable things, and are unsatisfied with any attempt to give them what they want. They can’t listen, and the slightest thing would bring them to tears or tantrums.

But, on the other hand, Asami felt that Akihito had been doing very well lately. He had been well mannered and obedient and had very few tantrums. He decided that the boy deserved a chance to experience what every normal person did, going into a shop and choosing what they wanted and purchasing it for themselves. He took Akihito by the hand and led him into the large store. It was filled with an eclectic mix of items, everything from plates to ping pong paddles to pocky with colorful signs and posters all over the walls. Akihito gasped wide-eyed and stared all around him.

“Akihito, you can go and pick out three things. Only three.” He said sternly, knowing it was important to set limits. “If you pick something up, you must put it back where it came from and be very careful not to break anything, got it?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Ok good boy, go have a look.” Asami turned him loose and let the boy wander up and down the aisles, always keeping a good eye on him but also letting him explore freely. He picked up the pink sunglasses and handed 200 yen to the shop owner. Akihito seemed to be having a bit of trouble choosing just three items but he finally made his selection and came to the counter.

“What have you got there?” Asami asked curiously.

The boy showed him a neon rainbow slinky, a pair of hologram swim goggles and a buttercup yellow ceramic vase. Asami raised his brows at the odd selection but didn’t say a word as they checked out and Akihito hugged in purchases to his chest in a plastic bag with a panda printed on it. When they got outside, Asami plunked the pink sunglasses on his face and flicked the tip of his button nose. He looked utterly adorable and he had done so good. Asami smiled lovingly at him, “I am so proud of you baby.”

The little blond beamed back at him, “Ice cream now Daddy? Ice cream now?”

Asami ended up holding his shopping bag as the boy ate his big lime green sherbert ice cream cone. Asami had gotten a little bit of espresso gelato but ended up throwing it away after two bites. The sugar went straight to Akihito’s head and Asami realized he might have made a bit of a mistake in allowing him to eat both scoops all at once. The boy began singing loudly and swinging his arms and when Asami told him not to he just glared at him and sang louder. People were starting to stare. Asami took hold of his hand firmly and looked him in the eye, “Akihito, is that appropriate behavior for being in public?”

He pouted but stopped singing. They made it a few more blocks before Akihito saw the 100 yen shop again. He pulled his hand away from Asami’s grasp and ran towards the shop. Asami ran after him, yanking him back before he could bump into anyone, his handsome face filled with anger and concern, “Akihito you know better than to run away from me. Don’t you ever do that again!”

Akihito looked at him stubbornly, “But Daddy I wasn’t goin far. M’not a baby! I don’t have to hold your hand all the time!”

He looked at him sternly, “You know the rules Akihito” The boy knew very well that he had to hold his hand whenever they were outside.

“Just wanted to see in the window.” Akihito pouted and stuck his hands in his armpits so Asami couldn't get to them.

“Alright, I think its time for us to go home if you can’t behave like a big boy.”

“I AM a big boy!!! Bigger than you!” Akihito stuck his tongue out and Asami growled, “Akihito thats enough, we’re going home now.”

“I don’t wanna go home! I wanna go shopping again!”

“Akihito, shopping is a privilege for polite, well-behaved children. Are you being polite and well-behaved?”

Pretty lips covered in sweet, sticky ice cream puffed out in a pout as he replied sullenly, “No.”

“No. So you don’t get to go shopping again.”

He stamped his foot, “But I WANNA!” He wailed and then began to cry in frustration. Asami understood what was happening and one of his men hailed a cab immediately. It was not his first choice in transportation but the important thing was to get Akihito out of the public eye as possible and into a quiet enclosed space.

The boy dug in his heels but Asami had him bundled in the yellow cab in no time. It was an novel experience Akihito would have normally enjoyed, but was too upset at the moment.

“You’re a poop head Daddy.”

There was a surprising burst of pain in his chest at the insult, but Asami ignored it, “We don’t name call Akihito, thats not nice.”

By the time Asami got Akihito to the penthouse, the boy was having a full on temper tantrum.

“Akihito, go sit on the time out mat, right now! Don’t make me tell you again!”

“I hate you Daddy, you’re _mean_!!!”

Asami’s face took on a mottled red color, white around the corners of his mouth, “Right now Akihito!”

The boy stomped over the the mat, determined not to let Daddy see him be sorry. He wasn’t sorry. Not one bit. He sat in the middle of it crosslegged with his arms folded, staring at the wall with hot angry eyes. Asami wound up the little ticking timer and sat it just out of reach of the time-out mat.

“Thirty minutes Akihito, or until you’re ready to tell Daddy that you’re sorry.”

The boy gasped, thirty minutes was the longest time out he had ever gotten. It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t fair! He kicked his feet against the wall. Asami frowned, “Thats ten more minutes Little One, keep it up.”

Akihito flopped down in a huff, turning his back to Asami. The mat was soft and comfy and just big enough for him to lie down on, but he wasn’t allowed to get off of it until the timer was up. He could hear the ticking of the little wind up clock. Tick-tick-tick, in his ear. Reminding him that Daddy was mad at him. That he had disappointed him.

His face scrunched up in anguish and he pressed his fists to his eyes and rubbed his face. He wanted to calm down but he couldn’t. He could feel the tears welling up and choking him, burning his eyes. He didn’t know why he acted like that. He just wanted to have a fun day, but got upset for no reason. He didn’t know why. It was stupid. Stupid, stupid Akihito. Daddy had taken him shopping and out for ice cream, special, in the middle of the day when he was usually working and then he acted like that. Daddy was never gonna wanna take him anywhere again. Maybe he wouldn’t take him to the Zoo now for his birthday. Maybe Daddy didn’t love him anymore. Maybe he was going to send him away.

The minutes passed slowly. Tick-tick-tick went the clock. He mashed his fists into his eyes and gulped in a few deep breaths but it didn’t help, not at all and finally Akihito was unable to hold the tears in any longer. He grabbed his knees and began to cry, sobbing and sniffling, feeling all alone in the world, alone and unloved and miserable until gentle hands touched him on his back.

"Daaaaaaaddyyyyy!" Akihito cried wetly, rolling over and holding his arms up, asking Asami to pick him up without words. His little hands grabbed at Daddy’s smooth dress shirt and he buried his face in it, even though his mouth was still a sticky mess. Asami hugged him tight around the waist, pulling Akihito into his arms and cradling him to his chest. "Shh. It's okay sweetheart. Everything's okay."

“M’sorry I was bad. I’m really sorry. Please don’t leave me Daddy, I’ll be good, I promise! Please!”

Asami was stricken, “Baby, I won’t ever leave you. Not ever, why would you even think that?”

He shook his head, “Dunno Daddy, sometimes just get scared, get scared if I’m bad you’ll get mad at me and leave me all alone.”

His heart ached in his chest. Asami knew well why Akihito was afraid, even if the boy himself did not. He held his beautiful, tear stained face in his hands and forced those pretty baby blues to look at him, “Akihito, Daddy’s love their babies no matter what. No matter what. And no matter what you do, whether you are good or bad, I will never leave you alone. I will always be here for you and I will always love you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you aren’t mad at me anymore?”

"No. I'm not mad. I was never mad at you."

Akihito laid his head back down and whimpered in his shoulder, "It felt like you were mad."

“I wasn’t mad, I was scared. You wouldn’t hold my hand and you ran away from me in a public place. I was afraid you might do it again and get hurt. I was afraid I might lose you. You’re stronger than you realize, and fast baby.”

Akihito was wide-eyed at the thought, “Faster than you?”

Asami grunted, “Yes Little One. You’re a fast little runner.”

The boy preened at the compliment and the idea that he was better than Asami at something. He was all worn out from his temper tantrum and his crying fit and he snuggled in nice and close, popping his thumb into his mouth contentedly. Asami popped it out and stuck a pacifier into his mouth before he could get fussy. Akihito was lax in his arms, his long legs slung across Asami’s lap but his fist was closed tight on Asami’s shirt as he sucked quietly on his pacifier. Asami buried his nose in his hair and let him rest for a while, letting him take comfort in the warm hug and the familiar nubby nipple in his mouth, but he knew he couldn’t let him go to sleep like that with sugar all over his face and teeth.

He stood with a sigh, lifting Akihito in his arms. The boy complained about the shifting, “Sleeping Daddy.”

“Bath first, then nap.”

A mischievous gleam seemed to enter Akihito’s eyes and he woke up quick, responding eagerly, “Ok Daddy, ok!”

That was much too eager for a bath. Akihito wasn’t usually big on baths. Asami eyed him suspiciously, “Who are you and what have you done with my Little One?”

Akihito just laughed.

-


	67. Oedipus Complex

Akihito watched Asami as he turned on the water and put the stopper in the drain. He held out two different bubble baths, “Chamomile or lavender?”

Aki pointed to the purple bottle and Asami tipped in a generous amount right under the running faucet. The bubbles immediately began to rise and froth, giving off the most wonderful aroma and Asami turned on some soothing music. When the large jacuzzi tub was a little less than half full Asami helped Akihito strip out of his clothes and then moved to help him into the tub. Akihito pulled back suddenly and cried out, “No!”

The older man raised an eyebrow, “What’s the matter?”

“You go first.” He said timidly, looking down at the floor.

Asami wasn’t up for fighting about it. If Akihito wanted to take a bath together that was fine. He supposed the boy was still feeling a little vulnerable from his time-out. He took hold of the bottom of his shirt and stripped it off his torso, revealing his bare chest, then unbuckled his belt.

Akihito watched him undress through his lashes. Daddy was so big and strong. He had seen him naked before, lots of times. But this was the first time he was really noticing how handsome he was. His pants hit the floor and moments later his boxers too and Akihito had a full view of Daddy’s penis and the large sack swaying between his heavily muscled thighs. Akihito stared at it without shame as Daddy stepped into the tub. There was something different about his penis. It alarmed him.

“Daddy, whats wrong with your penis?” He cried, pointing at it.

Asami paused and looked down at himself in surprise, “Nothing baby.”

Akihito looked down at his own penis. It was much smaller and pinker and… naked? Perhaps his had something wrong with it then, “Daddy why is mine different?”

The older man finally realized what was bothering him, he motioned Akihito over, “Little One your penis is circumcised, mine is not, that’s all.”

“Whats circum-ized?”

Asami really, really did not want to have this conversation, but Akihito’s curiosity was purely innocent and he could not ignore his question. He held himself in his hand and took ahold of his thick foreskin with his thumb and forefinger so he could show him, “I have a covering on my penis, called a foreskin. Sometimes when boys are babies, the skin is cut off.”

Akihito was horrified, “WHY?!”

“Well, its not really done in Japan, but your mother was foreign so that may be why yours was done.”

“Somebody CUT my penis??!”

Asami pulled his foreskin all the way back so Akihito could see it better, he was semi-hard so it made it easier, “No sweetheart, see, yours is just the same as mine underneath. Nobody cut your penis, they just trimmed the extra skin off.”

The boy’s wide blue eyes went back and forth between their privates and Asami could feel himself hardening under the boy’s intense scrutiny. He stared at the wall and tried desperately to think about baseball and sumo wrestlers.

“Is that why mine is so small?”

“Well its possible, sometimes too much skin is removed or its done improperly and scars. That scar tissue can tether the penis and keep it from extending to its natural length. But I don’t think thats what happened sweetheart, you are small baby boy and so your penis is going to be small. Wouldn’t it be silly if you were the same size you are now and had a penis as big as mine? It would be like a third leg!”

Akihito clapped his hand over his mouth and laughed at the idea of having three legs, his blue eyes twinkling.

Asami held out his hand, now that the most awkward conversation he had ever had in his life was over, “Come on Little One, the water is getting cold.”

The boy took his hand and Asami helped him into the slippery tub. He sat first, scooting back so Akihito could sit in front of him. The blond didn’t sit though, he just kept staring at Asami’s crotch through the bubbles, “Can I touch it, please?”

Asami briefly considered drowning himself. He rolled his eyes heavenward, sure this was some kind of test. He figured it was best to get it over with and let Akihito satisfy his curiosity, “Ok honey, but just this once.”

Akihito knelt down carefully between Asami’s spread legs and reached out a small hand to pet his groin, starting at the bristly hair above Asami's penis. He giggled, “S’ hairy Daddy.”

His voice was strained, “Yes baby.”

That inquisitive little hand wandered down to stroke Asami’s rock hard shaft, the thick mushroom head emerging from the bathwater like a strange water mammal coming up for air. Akihito’s eyes were round and fascinated. His hand wandered over Asami’s crotch, cupping his large testicles and then moved back up to touch his cock again and Asami finally intercepted his small hand with a groan. “That’s enough Akihito.”

His cock twitched and his balls were aching with the desire to let Akihito continue exploring but he knew it was not appropriate. Hell, he shouldn’t have even let it go this far. He always lost all reason around the boy, common sense flying out the window. Akihito pouted but let Asami turn him around and guide him back, rucked up between Asami’s legs. He leaned forward and pressed soft kisses into his hair as he soaped up a soft sponge shaped like a rubbery ducky. He began to quietly scrub the boy’s thin back. Akihito was strangely quiet, preoccupied. His hand was moving under the water as he stroked himself between his legs. Asami was about to say something when Akihito turned back to him, looking up through dark lashes, “Daddy, feels better when you touch me.”

He cleared his throat, “Thats nice baby, but thats something you have to do on your own, remember, we talked about this.”

The boy turned around again, his slender shoulders slumping in disappointment. Asami continued to scrub his back gently but firmly making sure to get every inch and then scrubbed his neck and chest and arms. By the time he was done Akihito was leaning back against him, unusually quiet as Asami rubbed all the spots he knew Aki liked best. When finally he was done, Asami nudged him into standing up and took the hand held sprayer off the wall, turning it on and making it warm before spraying all the suds off the boy’s pale skin. By the time he was done washing both himself and Akihito, the bathwater was nearly to the ledge of the tub.

He helped Akihito out of the tub, rinsing one foot and then the other and then himself and then began to dry him off. That was when Akihito grabbed his hand and placed it on his penis. Asami jerked back as if he had been burned, “Akihito!” He scolded, “We don’t do that.”

Blue eyes sparkled with anger, “WHY? Why won’t you touch me? I WANT you to!”

Asami remembered his dream and a dull pain settled over his heart, “No you don’t. You are too young, you don’t know what you want.”

He stamped his foot on the bathmat, “I do too! You let me touch you, why won’t you touch me?!”

“That was a mistake and it wont ever happen again.”

Akihito was distraught, “You don’t love me! If you loved me you would!”

His heart was throbbing, “Akihito loving someone is about doing what is best for them, even if its not what either person wants.” Kuroda’s words were thundering in his head, his confused emotions swirling around him, his heart torn, unable to discern what was right.

“You’re stupid.” The boy cried with frustrated, rejected tears in his eyes.

Asami moved to find his boxers, “Akihito thats enough.”

He bent down and stepped into them just as Akihito kicked him in the leg and screamed, “I HATE you!”

Asami felt something in his heart break and he stood swiftly, turning around with his arm coming up to grab hold of Akihito, “Thats enough!” His voice boomed like thunder in the small bathroom and as he turned, Akihito was standing closer than he had realized. The back of his hand caught the boy in the cheek with a loud painful ‘Crack!’, snapping his head to the side. The anger was swept immediately from Akihito’s eyes and they filled with fear. To him, it looked like Asami had done it on purpose, perhaps in retaliation for kicking him. He stumbled backwards away from the much larger man, his heart racing in terror, stunned and shattered. Asami had never hit him before. Never. He clutched his throbbing cheek, taking one step backwards and then another and another, cowering away.

Asami cried out in alarm and his giant hands reached out for him. Akihito screamed in fear, afraid of being hit again and tried to move away. His heel knocked against the side of the tub and the porcelain ledge caught him in the back of the knees, his momentum driving him off balance over the edge. Akihito fell backwards into the full tub. The water closed over his head muffling his scream of terror and he hit his head on the bottom of the tub, disorienting him. In his confused mind, he thought his Daddy was trying to drown him. That he was so angry, he had hit him and maybe wanted him dead.

Asami’s strong hands grabbed his body and pulled him out of the water, clutching him close, trying to comfort him and unintentionally terrifying him even more. Akihito’s eyes were wide in horror, his lungs burning for air even as he fought to get away from the strong arms that trapped him. He was going to push him under again. Again and again and again. Daddy would hold his head underwater, hold him down so he couldn’t breathe. Akihito screamed in terror, his repressed memories of what he thought was Asami’s abuse coming to the surface and the Princess began to wake up. To those frightened eyes, Asami’s face was straight out of his nightmares. The face of all the horrors Takeshi had subjected him to. He screamed in tortured anguish, clapping his hands over his eyes, screaming over and over again. He wanted to be safe again. He wanted someone to take care of him. He wanted his mother, so soft and sweet and kind. She had never hit him, never hurt him. His beautiful mother.

“Mommy!” He screamed aloud, his mind going back to his clearest memory of her; holding him as a baby, singing to him. Her beautiful face looking down on him with warmth and joy. He could remember the smell of her golden hair and the sound of her voice, as clear as a bell and suddenly he was there. The Little One was gone and all that was left was the Baby.

His crying took on a new tone, gone was the anguish and the terror and the torment, all forgotten. In its place was only the sound of a lost child, crying for its mother.

  
-


	68. Goodbye Baby, Goodbye

“I had to sedate him.”

Asami knelt on the edge of the bed, holding Akihito’s slender hand in his own, gently tracing circles with his thumb on the blue delicate veins of the boy's wrist.

Kuroda sat in the chair next to the bed. The anger between them was already forgotten, “Ryuichi, what happened?”

Golden eyes looked at him dully and Kuroda realized his friend might be in shock. “We fought and he- he fell in the tub. And I - when I pulled him out, he began screaming. And then I thought- I thought he had calmed down, but then he began crying for his mother. He called for her over and over again until he became hysterical and I thought it best to put him to sleep....”

“The haloperidol with a benzodiazepine injection?” There were different sedatives Kuroda had given him, some just to reduce anxiety or calm the nerves. The most potent was the haloperidol, it was only to be used if Akihito entered an acute psychosis and seemed at risk of harming himself.

Asami nodded noncommittally, his eyes sad and downcast, “He didn’t know me.”

Kuroda went rigid, “What do you mean?”

“He didn’t know me. He looked right at me and saw only a stranger.”

The doctor passed a hand over his eyes, “He regressed again.”

It wasn’t a question. Asami said nothing.

“He went even earlier this time. Back to before he ever met you. Back when the only person he loved was his mother. And she’s not here.” Kuroda said it slowly, still trying to wrap his mind around the trial they faced when an even younger Akihito woke up expecting his mother and found only strangers.

Asami seemed not be registering his words. He stroke the boy's sleeping brow lovingly, “Its his birthday tomorrow. I was going to take him to the zoo. It was all he could talk about.”

“Ryuichi. Trips to the zoo are not what he needs. Akihito doesn’t need to go to the park or play on the swings or take care of a goldfish. He is nineteen years old. He needs therapy. He needs meds. He needs to be in an institution with professional around the clock care.”

“I can’t help him.”

Asami sounded more vulnerable than he had in his entire life. Kuroda shook his head, “No, you can’t.”

He seemed stunned by the realization and Kuroda could only imagine how hard it was for the indomitable man who could do everything to accept that he could not do the one thing he wanted most in the world. That he had failed at the only thing that mattered to him. That he had failed the one person that mattered most. Asami stared at his hands palm up in disbelief, his voice filled with pain and self-recrimination, “I can’t help him. I never could. Everything I have ever done, everything I tried to do, only made him worse. I love him so much. And yet, the only thing I can do is hurt him, over and over again”

“No one person can be everything to another person. Thats the mistake you have made with him, from the very beginning. Its just not possible. You have to let other people in. There are reasons people have long warned about the perils of physicians treating themselves or family members. They cannot approach the patient with objectivity. They cannot keep their emotions from clouding their judgment and take shortcuts and risks they wouldn’t take with others. A physician must be able to sympathize with a patient’s pain but they cannot empathize with them and take those feelings on as their own. Akihito’s pain is your pain. You cannot see what he needs because what is happening to him is happening to you too. And Ryuichi, you aren’t even a doctor to begin with.”

Asami held his head in his hands, his eyes closed against the pain. Perhaps it was not possible for one person to be everything to another. He had tried so hard to be Akihito’s everything; his father and friend, his lover and doctor. He had been his therapist and his psychiatrist, making decisions that he had never been objective enough to make, that he had never had any right to make. His obsessive, possessive all-consuming love for Akihito had been like blinders on a horse, committing him to the path laid before, making him unable to see what lay on either side, unable to see that there were other, better options. Better men.

Kuroda laid a hand on his shoulder, “You can change all that. You may not be able to help him yourself, but you can take him to the somebody that can. You can provide it for him. The only way you can help him now, is by letting him go.”

All Asami could do, was nod in silence with his eyes fixed on Akihito’s sleeping face.

 

The wound in his chest burned.

 

-

 

Songs that helped inspire the first half of Princess

Overall Theme Song : Girl by Tori Amos

The Dragon’s Song: China by Tori Amos

The Princess’s Song: Leave the Light On by Beth Hart

Child Akihito’s Song: Mother by Tori Amos

Takaba Marie’s Song : Mary by Tori Amos

Little One’s Song: Winter by Tori Amos

Daddy’s Song: When You’ve Got Trouble by Liz Longley, When It Don’t Come Easy  and Not Alone by Patty Griffin, Your Mess Is Mine by Vance Joy

Momohara Ai’s song: Silent all these years by Tori Amos

The Sleeping Dragon’s Song: Waiting for My Child by Patty Griffin, The Heart wants what it wants by Selena Gomez

Wizard’s Song: Mama by Beth Hart, Me and a Gun by Tori Amos

The Guide’s Song: Hiding Under Water by Beth Hart

Akihito’s Song: Learning to Live and L.A. Song by Beth Hart

Asami's Song: The Song by Brandi Carlile

-


	69. Nothing's Too Good For My Baby

Akihito rubbed his eyes as he yawned. He felt fuzzy and yucky. Like maybe he was getting sick. The last thing he could remember was his Mommy rocking him to sleep. Singing to him softly.

He rubbed his hands into his eyes and sat up slowly, “Mommy?” He called to the empty room.

He drew his knees into his chest in fright. He wasn’t in his room at home. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t recognize this place at all. It was a white room, with soft sunlight coming in from a small window. There was a matching window on the opposite wall, but it was strange because all Akihito could see was the room he was in reflected back in the glass, like a mirror. He wondered what that window was for. There was a soft blue rug on the floor that matched both his blanket and his pajamas. There were toys and picture books and building blocks all put away neatly on shelves. There was a funny bear with an old pink ribbon tied around its neck. He could tell it was an old bear but Akihito liked it just the same. It had a nice face. He hugged it to his stomach. It was a nice, happy room, but not one thing in it was familiar to him. He wanted his mother.

“Mommy?” He called again, pushing back the covers and placing one bare foot on the floor. The door opened slowly and he watched with his face drawn tight to see who would come in.

“Mommy?” He bleated softly.

It wasn’t her. It was a different woman. She had brown eyes and a round tummy. She looked at him with kind eyes, carrying a tray that she sat down at a small table. “Good morning Akihito.”

He didn’t answer her, he hugged the bear tight, “Mommy.” He didn’t know very many words. He didn’t know how to ask where his mother was but the lady seemed to understand.

“Your Mommy can’t be with you right now.”

His eyes were big and round and alarmed, “Why?”

She sat next to him on the bed, “Akihito, your Mommy had to go away.”

“Mommy... come back?”

“She can’t come back sweetheart. But she loves you very much and she brought you here so you could have a new family. One thats going to love you very much. And we are going to take care of you now.”

Akihito stared at her, trying to process the words. Like most very small children, he was very accepting of what he was told, but did not understand the permanence of what the nurse was telling him. The idea of his mother going away was one he could handle, but the idea of her never coming back was beyond his grasp so he forgot that part. He was distracted by the food on the tray. The kindly nurse noticed him looking at it, “Are you hungry? I heard you liked pancakes.”

He smiled and nodded happily. He loved pancakes. The nurse cut them up into small pieces for him and drizzled syrup on them. Akihito used the toddler fork at first with its short dull tines and then gave up and picked up the pieces with his fingers. He ate quietly but hungrily, picking up his cup and drinking with both hands. Afterwards the nurse took him to the bathroom and cleaned his mouth and his fingers like his Mommy usually did. He opened obediently and let her brush his teeth and then went potty, bending over and letting her clean his bottom with the nappy wipes the way his mother did it. She praised him the whole time, telling him what a good boy he was as she pulled up his diaper and helped him get dressed in a funny outfit that was kind of like his pajamas except yellow. The material was soft and there were no buttons or zippers, just a stretchy waist and a T-shirt that went over his head. The shoes were white slip ons with no laces or straps.

“Would you like to meet some of the other children?” Akihito nodded hesitantly, he had never played with any children other than his older brother and Takeshi wasn’t very nice. But he knew from movies that children usually played together and he always thought it looked like a lot of fun. He held out one hand and with the other grabbed his Teddy bear. He looked at her mutinously and she laughed, “Its alright, you can take him with you.”

He smiled then and followed her out the door. It was a long hall full of doors with numbers outside each one. Akihito didn’t know which numbers were which but he knew the difference between numbers and letters. He managed to simultaneously suck his thumb and clutch his Teddy close while the other hand remained firmly in the nurse’s grasp, padding after her. He looked curiously at the other people in the halls. The women were dressed like the nurse, in white dresses and puffy white shoes. Some were men, dressed in white coats and suitpants. Most everybody else was dressed just like Akihito, in shirts and pants with slip on shoes. He saw people dressed in green and blue and purple. He wondered why he had to wear yellow. He wished his outfit was pink but he knew better than to say that out loud. Everyone seemed really nice, they all smiled at him but a few of them smiled past him. Akihito turned to see who was behind him and he saw a tall darkhaired man following him at a distance with a few others behind him. They were the only ones dressed that way, in a fancy black suits with ties. It reminded Akihito of his father but the man in front wasn’t nearly as fat as his father. He looked at him curiously for a moment, sucking his thumb and then turned back around to see where they were going.

His eyes lit up in amazement.

The room he had been led to was nothing like he had ever seen before. There were bright colors everywhere and drawings all over the walls. There were balls and toys and books and dolls. There were people everywhere, all dressed in the same soft yellow outfit he was. At least ten to fifteen, they were all quietly reading and playing games. One woman was sitting in the corner brushing a babydoll’s hair next to a great big dollhouse and another man was making a castle out of blocks. Akihito liked to build castles with blocks. His brother always knocked it down but what he didn’t know was that Akihito enjoyed building it, not having it. That was the fun part. His brother wasn’t here though. They were all strangers.

He looked at the nurse, still clutching her hand tightly. She smiled at him, “Would you like to go play with the other children?”

He shook his head shyly, unsure of how to verbalize what was confusing him. “Not chil-ren” He muttered around his thumb.

“Ah, you mean they aren’t small.”

Akihito nodded, none of the others were small. Children were supposed to be small, not have gray hair or wear glasses.

“Well Akihito this is a very special place, for very special children. Some of these children may look different than the children you are used to but that doesn’t mean they aren’t children just like you. What if you looked different and people didn’t want to play with you? Wouldn’t that be sad?”

Akihito nodded again. It would be sad.

“So why don’t you give them a chance and you’ll see, they are children just like you.”

They stopped walking next to the woman with the doll. There were other dolls on the shelves too. “This is Haruka, Haruka-chan meet Akihito.”

The lady smiled at Akihito and spoke in a little girl voice, “Hewo Aki-chan.”

The nineteen year old sat down beside her, “I like you dolly.”

She smiled brightly, “Rulca!” The doll had pretty pink hair that she was fastening into two pigtails.

“Can I play too?” He asked politely and she beamed, happily handing him another little doll with blue hair this time. In no time at all they were chattering happily, just two children playing dress up with their dollies, sharing in innocent joy. Akihito didn’t even notice when the nurse stepped away. Before long, some of the other children had joined Akihito and Haruka and they were all talking and laughing. The boy’s shyness was gone in no time flat.

The nurse moved to stand beside Asami-san> She kept her voice low, “It went well I think.”

The handsome man nodded, his golden eyes filled simultaneously with relief and sadness, “Much better than expected.”

“Would you like to see the rest of the grounds? The doctor will join us soon.”

Asami did not answer, his eyes were fixed on the little blond in the center of the group, entranced by the joy he saw on his face. Kuroda answered for him, “Yes Ma’am, we would like that very much.”

Asami had no wish to leave the boy, but she assured him that he would be well looked after by the attendants in the play area, not left alone for even a moment. Even so, Asami left one of Akihito’s bodyguards, Ando, to watch over him.

The group moved through the rest of the grand building. It was an old hotel that had been turned into a mental hospital. The first few floors were all in one and that was where all of the classrooms and amenities were. The former guest rooms, now patient rooms, had been divided into two twin towers that arose from the main body of the hotel. The views from every window were incredible. It was high on a hill overlooking the river, the grounds were gorgeous, perfectly manicured and surrounded on all sides by a tall fence. Everything about it seemed incredibly peaceful and all of the patients they encountered in the halls seemed very happy.

The nurse pointed out the different areas; the playground and cafeteria and exercise room, “We have one hundred and eight long term residents and several that come for short term stays.”

Kirishima spoke up, “I’ll be needing all of their files as well as lists of approved visitors for each patient.” The efficient secretary was already in the process of screening all of the employees, but as they already went through a rigorous screening process before ever being allowed on the grounds, the highest risk to Akihito would be the other patients and their visitors.

She bit her lip, “It is… most irregular, but I was instructed to comply with all of your requests. You shall have them though I will depend on your absolute discretion. Many of the families of the patients here are quite prestigious and keep their relative’s stay a secret, the shame of mental illness, you see. No one wants anyone to know they have a crazy relative. People act like its a disease they might catch by association."  
She shook her head in annoyance before continuing on, "The care center is divided into two wards, the North tower is for those who have emerged from their dissociative states and are undergoing therapy to merge their personalities and memories as well as dealing with their trauma. The more Southern tower is where the patients who are still in dissociative states reside. Since this facility primarily deals with regression disorders, we have found it helpful to separate the patients in this ward by their perceived age. Akihito will be with the one to three year olds. Their uniform is light yellow. The four to six group wears blue, the seven to ten group wears green and the teens and preteens wear tan. It assists the staff and the patients themselves in treating each patient in an appropriate manner to their mental age. We do have some patient whose disorders fall outside the normal categories and those wear violet, such as Ms. Momohara Ai.”

“How is Momohara doing?”

She sighed, “Not as well as hoped, we were hoping to move her to the second ward soon but she seems to have had a bit of a setback. One of the children accidentally broke a doll in front of her and she became most distressed.”

Asami frowned. It seemed quite innocuous, “Why would that distress her?”

The nurse looked nervously at Kuroda and the doctor took over for her, quietly explaining, “Momohara’s dissociative disorder was brought about in part by the horrific torture and sexual abuse she underwent at the hands of Takeshi and Yuri. The reason hers is so much worse than Akihito’s is because of a specific incident that occurred approximately ten months after her kidnapping. The video tapes allowed us to piece the entire story together. It would appear that she became pregnant and was forced to give birth with no help. Not only without help, the sadists in fact tied her upright by her arms and forced her to stand throughout her entire labor. Takeshi and Yuri probably hoped that she would die during the delivery but miraculously, both she and the baby boy survived. Takeshi and Yuri then cannibalized the infant, alive, right in front of her. She never even got to hold him. This was the incident that triggered her psychotic break and essential mental suicide, though Yuri did not allow her physical body to die. He later performed a primitive hysterectomy on her, forcefully removing her uterus so that he could continue raping her without risk of a second pregnancy.”

Kuroda’s face was white as he spoke and the nurse trembled at the recounting. Asami felt he might vomit from the sheer depraved brutality of the acts inflicted on the young, innocent girl. From the look on Souh, Kirishima and Toru’s faces, he could tell they felt the same.

The nurse wrung her hands, “One of the younger ones was carrying a baby doll and she dropped it and the head fell off. Momohara just started screaming and screaming and screaming. When she woke up, she was unresponsive again. One step forward, two steps back.” She sighed.

Asami did not like the sound of that at all, “And what is her treatment going forward? What will Akihito’s treatment be? My goal is not for him to become a long-term resident. My goal is to take him home, where he belongs. I didn’t bring him here to make friends and play with dolls, I brought him here because I was told this doctor was the best at what he does and that he could make him well again. I want details regarding his treatment and a timeline of-”

The nurse waved her hands, “I understand your frustration, but truly I am not the one qualified to answer these questions. The doctor is on his way, he was scheduled to speak at a summit in Shanghai this weekend but the moment he heard you were coming he cancelled his engagement and-”

Her voice was blotted out by the loud _‘Thwpthwpthwpthwp’_ of a helicopter’s roters coming over the treeline and slowing in preparation to land. It touched down on a large pad down by the river. Asami and his men made their way down to the helopad as a tall thin man got out of the aircraft. He was far younger than Asami had imagined. His shiny blond hair was tossed by the wind from the helicopter before the blades were turned off and the noise died down. He strode confidently across the concrete, his hand outstretched to meet Asami’s in a firm handshake, “A pleasure to meet you Asami-san. I have heard so much about you, though I only wish we could have met under different circumstances. I came as soon as I could. My name is Dr. Sudou Shuu.”

-


	70. Anybody Seen My Baby?

Dr. Shuu was about thirty years younger than Asami had anticipated. He had anticipated a man of Dr. Shuu’s standing in the medical community to be much older and well... fatter. Sudou Shuu was neither old nor fat. He was very tall, slender, and quite attractive, his pale coloring a gift from his mother who was German he explained. He dressed stylishly, not in the rumpled white coat that seemed to be the uniform of most doctors but rather in a perfectly tailored blue suit that almost seemed more appropriate to a nightclub manager than a highly respected psychiatrist. He kept up a constant stream of conversation as they moved towards his penthouse office in the top of the Southern tower, occasionally stopping to interact with one of the patients, almost always bestowing a lollipop or a candy to the ‘children’ who beamed under his attentions. When they finally got to his office, the view was breathtaking but Asami was hardly in the mood to enjoy it.

“Dr. Shuu, while your facility here is quite lovely and the patients here seem quite happy, I am most disturbed to see the sheer number of patients still in their regressed states, long term residents acting like children. How long have they been here? What sort of therapy are they undergoing? How do you measure their progress? What is your timeline on their recovery and how are you assisting them in -”

Dr. Shuu smiled, his teeth were perfectly white and straight, “Asami-san, I will answer all of your questions but let me start from the beginning. I was sent a casefile by Kirishima and have reviewed it extensively. Your son… may I call him that?”

Asami nodded. They both knew very well that Akihito was not his son, but according to official records, Akihito was now his adopted ward.

“Your ‘son’ is suffering from a classical case of dissociative regression, and I want to assure that his case is well within the bounds of what this facility is equipped to handle. Regression is far more simple that most people realize though the cure is quite time consuming. It cannot be rushed and each patient moves at their own pace so I cannot give you an exact timeline but I can say that it is not at all uncommon for survivors to need three to five years of intensive therapy work.”

The older man took a sharp breath inwards. It felt like Sudou had hit him in the gut. Three to five years. Three to five years without his boy. It was unimaginable. And yet, if that was what it took, he would wait. He would wait forever for his boy, if he had to.

Asami spoke calmly. His voice did not betray his inner turmoil, “And will he have to remain in the institution for the entirety of his treatment?”

The blond doctor shook his head, “No, though many families and patients do chose to stay. To understand the importance of institutionalization in the role of regression therapy, one must first understand regression itself. Regression is a mechanism of defense, to protect a person’s psychological sense of self from destruction. It can also be an attempt to repair damage to one’s self by returning the psyche to an earlier state of a previous, similar unresolved trauma in an attempt to allow the person to master that trauma and in doing so, to master their current trauma. Regression is often an attempt to resolve a conflict that was not solved in the past and it is usually triggered by facing that same trauma again. It is the expression of a developmental need, a quest for a new beginning. Our purpose here is to determine what that unresolved trauma was for each patient and to help them acknowledge it, come to terms with it and over time, master it.”

Asami still did not understand why Akihito had to be here and not home with him, “Why is this not something that can be achieved at home, in my care, on an outpatient basis?”

Sudou shook his head, “My early attempts were just that and they were largely unsuccessful due to the wholly unpredictable nature of the outside world and the inability of the caregivers to maintain an objective stance in regards to the patient. The initial part of regression therapy is called stabilization. This requires the development of a cognitive framework; sorting out how an abused child thinks and feels, undoing damaging self-concepts, and helping them learn about what is ‘normal’. Stabilization is a time to learn how to ask for help and build support networks among their peers; the importance of which cannot be understated. This is an opportunity not afforded to those treated in an outpatient setting and isolation can severely set back their treatment. It is not just the sense of community engendered by a group setting, it is also the setting itself that can be therapeutic. Patients suffering from dissociation based regression suffer from a disruption in their sense of self. The goal of hospitalization is to repair this disruption and enable such patients to organize and unify themselves. We provide a safe, stable setting where this may occur. Environments where there is a lack of structure and role definition promote regression. We utilize techniques such as assigning specific workers to patients for the sake of continuity and maintain a rigid adherence to a daily schedule. Daily visits with specific appointment times also help such patients organize themselves around the visit to their therapist. Every day is the same here. It is dull, it is boring and it is healing. Patients often develop a love hate relationship to the institution that is very similar to that of a parent and child. The hospital seems omnipotent to them, it does not change and assumes all rights over them, in a way, returning them to infancy. The institution must be like a mother, it must soothe, give warmth and survive both loving and hating equally. The holding environment allows the patient to securely attach and form a relationship to the environment itself and use its equilibrium to help find their own. A child cannot find peace when he or she is surrounded by turmoil.”

Asami did not speak, but he could feel Kuroda’s eyes flick towards him. He had tried desperately to give that to Akihito; a stable, unchanging environment, but Akihito always been surrounded by turmoil, by Asami’s own inner turmoil. The boy was smart and sensitive, no matter how well he hid it, he was sure the boy still felt it.

The doctor continued, “The stabilization stage may take a year or longer, as much time as is necessary for the patient to move safely into the next phase of treatment. Most of the patients you see in this wing are in that stage. Once they are stable, the next part of their therapy is helping the patient to understand their own pathology. That in itself can be quite the time consuming challenge, because it must be done with their childish alter-ego and then a path of communication must be established between the the adult and the child. Communication and cooperation among the two stabilizes the internal system, hence the whole person. This is the critical stage in therapy, one that must be in place before the trauma work ever begins.”

Asami couldn’t understand how that was possible, “How is this done? How can you reach and communicate with both personalities?”

Dr. Shuu smiled, “Hypnosis. Now I know when you hear the word hypnosis, you may picture a mysterious Magician waving a pocket watch back and forth, guiding his subject into a zombie-like state, but that could not be further from the truth. Hypnosis is something science cannot fully explain and yet the phenomenon is very real, measurable and quantifiable by brain scans and measurements of the brain waves. Psychiatrists theorize that the deep relaxation and focusing exercises of hypnotism work to calm and subdue the conscious mind so that it takes a less active role in the patient’s thinking process and allows the subconscious mind to take the reins. Effectively, this allows the therapist to work directly with the subconscious. The therapist seeks to establish communication among the personality states and to find ones that have memories of traumatic events in the patient’s past and determine which memories are being repressed and why, so that we can then establish a treatment plan to allow the patient to deal with the traumatic events that caused split in their psyche and reunify their mind.”

Asami was skeptical, “And this actually works? Hypnosis?”

“I understand your skepticism. Hypnosis does not work on many adults, and in many arenas is considered to be more or a parlor trick than anything else, but the beauty of using hypnosis on the child-like personalities of regressed individuals is that they are highly susceptible to suggestion and readily believe what they are told. Hypnosis is a close relative of the phenomenon is known as the placebo effect. In numerous studies, people who were given ordinary sugar pills behaved and felt differently only because they thought they should. One has to believe hypnosis will work for it to actually work. When you absolutely convince a person that you have brought about a change in their subconscious, they register this information as a fact. And like any fact, this information takes root in the subconscious mind which can then create very real physical changes in the brain. While administering hypnosis to a patient, one must be very careful not to change the way the patient thinks or introduce false memories. Though sometimes changing a patient’s way of thinking is the goal of hypnosis, we do not use it that way. It would be like putting a band-aid over a mortal wound and calling it fixed. We merely use it as a tool to collect information on how to best administer therapy that will assist the patient in reconciling with their past and realizing their true self.”

The doctor opened his briefcase and retrieved a thick file that Asami recognized as a copy of Kirishima’s detailed file on Akihito.

“Your assistant sent this to me electronically and I have reviewed it in its entirety. Even without hypnosis, I believe I have a solid theory on the source of Akihito’s regression.”

Asami leaned forward, more than mildly interested in this statement. He was beginning to be impressed by the young, obviously knowledgable doctor.

The blond continued to speak, his blue eyes focused on the file in front of him, “It obviously centers around his older brother, that goes without saying. Takeshi tormented him in very specific ways, I think for a very specific reason. My theory is that he was trying to recreate his past with Akihito, the significance of which cannot be overstated. In here, it is stated that you were aware that Akihito was being abused as a young child, and believed the abuse was perpetrated mostly by his brothers. Though he was no doubt traumatized by the separation from his mother, and that may be part of his issues, I believe the trauma that Akihito needs to come to terms with is the violence done to him by his brother at such a tender age. He has regressed twice, the first going back to the beginning of his time in your care which coincided with the loss of his mother. The second time, he regressed to a point beyond that, going back to the time with his mother that also likely coincided with the height of his older brother’s abuse. Now, both instances are times where he felt simultaneously loved and protected, but they are also times when he felt the most helpless. I see here that Akihito’s mother was also abused. It is possible some of the abuse happened in front of him. Akihito was loved and cherished by his mother and yet saw her suffer and was unable to do anything about it. He was abused and unable to protect himself. Those feelings of helplessness and uselessness no doubt became embedded in his psyche. And then when you took him away from the abuse, you made him feel loved and cherished and yet, his mother was taken from him at the same time. He was made, yet again to feel utterly powerless. When I read further into his later years where his self-hatred became a problem and then the self mutilation after that, it is clear to me that the source all along was this feeling of helplessness and failure that has stayed with him, deeply embedded in his soul. And then your ‘treatment’ of his condition…”

Asami’s golden eyes glinted dangerously.

Sudou paused to consider his words carefully. He steepled his long slender fingers on the desk, “I believe you did what you thought was best for him, of that I have no doubt. But from what I can tell, every aspect of Akihito’s life was controlled. You didn’t just give him a structure in which to exist, you controlled every aspect of his existence. While this may have appeared to manage the symptoms of his pathology, I believe it only reinforced his feelings of powerlessness, further perpetuating the cycle of self hatred. His self hatred can be only cured by addressing those feelings. Akihito needs to be empowered. He needs to realize that he is not helpless, that he is not useless. He is not simply an empty vessel on which the world acts but rather a ship in his own right, capable of guiding his own destiny. He needs to feel strong. The childhood issues he needs to deal with in order to unify his mind go back to the abuse by his brother and the loss of his mother. Akihito, deep in his heart, cannot face what was done to his mother and himself. In his heart, he longs to save both his mother and to save his childhood self. If we can find a way to let him do that, it will allow him to move past his trauma, and resolve the conflict between his personalities. This should allow him to reassemble the whole, with the memories of all the personalities.”

The doctor frowned at the folder, pausing in thought for a moment.

Asami looked at him with unabashed admiration, “I have known Akihito for most of his life and I never saw what you see so clearly, after only reviewing his file. You are everything Kuroda said you would be.” His words were quiet but intense, praise not coming easily to the powerful man, but sincere when it did.

Kuroda smiled wide in victory. Dr. Shuu blushed in response to the sincere praise. Asami could see now what a fool he had been. The young doctor was obviously brilliant and excellent at what he did. He smiled wide, for the first time since Akihito had relapsed the cold knot in his belly began to loosen and he began to have hope again. The solution was so obvious, so clear now. And if Sudou could see to the heart of Akihito’s disorder so readily, surely his treatment would be just as effective. He leaned back in his chair, the almost permanent knots in his broad shoulders beginning to uncoil.

“And how do you aim to assist Akihito in achieving this empowerment and ‘saving’ his little self and his mother?”

Dr. Shuu cleared his throat, “To be honest I will have to give the mother issue some thought but the rest is quite clear to me. We need to help him reclaim his self-worth and personal power. I will most likely employ group therapy the most, I would like to see Akihito come to a position of authority in his play group. I will put him in the position to help and protect others. By helping those similar to himself, Akihito will be able to act out his fantasy of saving his childhood self. We will also use individual psychotherapy and expressive therapies; art, poetry, movement, psychodrama, music and perhaps some pharmacotherapy to help with any anxiety he may have. I will come up with a course of treatment for him and in truth I think we may see a resolution of his regression relatively soon. But, be advised that sometimes the most difficult part of the treatment is after the self has been reassembled and the memories recovered. This is the point that many families wish to take their loved ones home but I highly advise against it. Revisiting and reworking the trauma is the next stage. This requires a vivid re-experiencing of a traumatic event accompanied by the release of related emotion and the recovery of repressed or dissociated aspects of that event. The retrieval of traumatic memories must be done in a safe and controlled manner. Hypnosis again is an extremely useful modality to safely contain the experience and release the painful emotions more quickly. I recommend work on an inpatient basis in a safe and supportive environment. It must be paced, carefully monitored and contained to prevent retraumatization and to give the patient a feeling of mastery and power over the experience. This is again where the institutional setting has advantages over an isolated home setting. The reworking of the trauma involves sharing the abuse story, undoing unnecessary shame and guilt, processing the the anger, grieving for the damage done to one’s life and relationships and then letting go of that grief. Processing this painful material within the structure of a therapeutic community of other individuals with similar experiences is incredibly effective. Group experiences are critical to overcoming the secrecy, shame, and isolation of these mental disorders. Akihito will know that he is not alone. He will know that his experience is not unique and he will see others who have conquered their demons. Its an incredibly cleansing and uplifting experience.”

Asami was now nodded along. There was a rare smile embedded in his hard features. He stood and held out a large hand, taking Sudoh’s in a strong handshake.

The attractive doctor smiled back at him, “I should like to get started with Akihito without a moment’s delay. Should you like to say goodbye to him I would recommend going ahead with that, the first few months may be long ones for you I’m afraid. There are no visits allowed until Akihito’s reaches a certain stage of stabilization. Sometimes this takes only a few weeks, sometimes it can take months- “

Dr. Sudoh noticed the paleness of Asami’s face and stopped speaking, “ Is there something wrong sir?”

“You are telling me I cannot visit him?”

The doctor nodded in affirmation, “That is correct.”

Dark brows drew low, “That does not work for me.”

Sudou’s eyebrows rose high, “Well that is part of his treatment.”

Asami shook his head, standing in irritation, “I must be allowed to visit him, to check on him… to see him.” His glare was enough to topple a tree.

Dr. Shuu matched him glare for glare, standing and planting his hands on the desk. They were nearly the same height, “Well, thats the way it works. What part of Akihito’s stabilization therapy did you not understand? He must be surrounded by the familiar, he must engage in a routine, free of outside interference. You are most certainly an outside interference, a destabilizing one.”

Asami practically growled, “No.”

“Then you are free to take him from this establishment and find another that can do what we do here. I do not tell you how to do your job, you cannot tell me how to do mine. My results speak for themselves and if you want those results for Akihito, you will trust my judgement and abide by my rules. If you do not trust my process then why bring him to me? There are other mental institutions, other psychiatrists.”

“You are the best.”

“Then you must allow me to do my best.”

Asami was silent for a long moment. Dr. Shuu held his breath. None of the other men in the room spoke. Finally Asami did, “I want daily reports. And monthly meetings with you to discuss his progress.”

Dr. Shuu nodded, “Done.”

“And one of my men stays on the grounds to ensure his protection and wellbeing.”

The doctor’s blue eyes frowned, “At a distance, he will not interact with Akihito or interfere with his treatment in anyway.”

Asami’s eyes met Ando’s and then flicked forward again, “Yes.”

“Then it will be arranged…. There will be an increase in fees of course for such extra accommodations-”

Before Dr. Shuu could finish his sentence, Asami had his checkbook out and was writing a check with far too many zeros. He slapped it down on the desk with an irritated grunt, “Will this cover it?”

Sudou picked up the check, choking back a smile, “Is most certainly will, on a monthly basis, of course.”

Asami’s golden eyes meet his and captured them with their intensity, “Whatever it takes. Just bring my boy back to me.”

Dr. Shuu’s fingers stroked the check in his pocket lovingly as they left the office. He would certainly help the boy, certainly, but he would also not be in any particular rush with Akihito’s treatment either. Sudou Shuu was no fool, nor was he blind to the opportunity at hand. Asami was the richest, most powerful man in all of Asia and Akihito was obviously his most precious possession. There was nothing he wouldn’t pay to see the boy well and whole again. The longer he could draw it out, the better, to his way of thinking. It wasn’t every day that a Golden Goose landed on one’s doorstep, he would be a fool not to milk it for all it was worth. And as Akihito's treatment dragged on and time went by, Asami was bound to forget all about his foolish infatuation with the boy and then... well then, he was bound to see that there were far more suitable matches for a man such as himself. Sudou Shuu patted his hair into place unconsciously as he smiled inwardly. A plan was already beginning to form.

-


	71. I Found My Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, just a gentle reminder, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Either you trust me to make everything come out alright in the end or you don't. If you do, relax. If you don't, then why are you still reading?

Akihito hummed happily to himself as he played with his dolly. It was a very pretty dolly and he was glad to be playing with it. He brushed her bright blue hair until it shined and sparkled and put bows and ribbons in it. He didn’t have dolls at home. And he didn’t have any friends either. Here he had lots of children to play with and they were all really nice. He should have been happy. But he wasn’t. He kept looking at the door, waiting for his mother to come and get him.

But she never did.

The beautiful young man sat by the window and gazed outside through the sad eyes of a lost child. He tucked his knees up against his chest and held them, rocking slowly. He felt sad and alone and all out of sorts. He wanted to go home. He wanted his mother. He wanted to cuddle up with her and hear her voice and smell her scent. He wanted her so bad it hurt in his stomach. Akihito stared out the window blindly, trying his best not to cry because he was a big boy and big boys didn’t cry. But, what if she had forgotten him? What if she wasn’t coming back? His delicate chin began to wobble and soon his entire body trembled with the effort and silent tears began to slide down his cheeks.

A large hand smoothed over his back. Akihito jumped and looked up. His vision was blurred by the tears, all he could make out was a large, dark figure bending over him and he was instantly afraid. A silk handkerchief was daubed against his cheeks to dry them and Akihito blinked at the stranger through long wet lashes. The man looked at him kindly but sadly. Akihito didn’t know him.

“Why are you crying Akihito?”

Akihito stared down at his shoes and bit his lower lip. He wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers.

The warm hand rubbed slow circles on his thin back. Akihito couldn’t help but lean into the touch a little. It felt good, comforting.

“You can tell me baby.”

He said it just like his mother. It only made Akihito want his mother more and he burst into bewildered tears again, “Mooommmyyyy!!”

The man wrapped his arms around Akihito and rocked him gently as he cried, great heaving sobs of homesick confusion. Akihito snuggled into his big arms and buried his face in the man’s big chest. The man wasn’t his mother. He wasn’t who Akihito wanted to hold him and dry his tears. But he was better than nothing. Akihito sobbed until he was exhausted and the man lifted his limp body and sat down in a rocking chair in front of the window, in a quiet corner of the playroom. The wood slowly creaked as the man rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until Akihito stilled and quieted in his arms. Warm fingers stroked the wet hair back from his forehead and cheeks, carding it gently.

The little curly headed girl came to stand in front of them. She held out her pink haired doll to Akihito, “Dolly?” She was empathically aware of Akihito’s pain and his need, as all children naturally are, but didn’t know how to help. She did the only thing she knew to do but Akihito didn’t want her doll and he didn’t want her to see him cry so he hid his face, angrily turning his back on her. Her wrinkled mouth drooped.  
Asami couldn’t help but smile at her unselfish willingness to try and help her playmate. He patted her cheek, “Thank you sweetheart. I don’t think Aki-chan wants to play right now, but you are a very good girl for trying to help him. I know when Akihito feels better he would love to play with your dolly with you.”

Haruka nodded with her worried eyes still fixed on Akihito’s back and slowly turned around to go and play. Every now and then her gaze flicked back to her friend to check on him. It was unbearably sweet. Asami smiled sadly. He could feel the wetness of Akihito’s tears through his dress shirt as they seeped through the expensive fabric but they seemed to be slowing down. His heart felt broken in his chest. He had never felt more helpless in his life. There was nothing he could do to help Akihito. Nothing. And he couldn’t imagine how the boy felt right now, confused and alone, in a strange new place, surrounded by strangers, not knowing where his mother was, not capable of understanding that she wasn’t coming for him or what was happening to him. Asami bowed his dark head and pressed a kiss to the curve of Akihito’s soft neck, breathing in softly, enjoying the boy’s clean fresh scent. He couldn't imagine living without it, without the smell of him and the sound of him and the touch of him. He couldn’t imagine going even one day without him and now he was faced with months and even years of separation. He already missed him so much it hurt.

The boy’s breathing deepened and evened out and Asami shifted his weight in his lap but Akihito didn’t even stir. He was fast asleep, exhausted by his crying fit. Asami wondered how many more he would have as he settled into his new home. It hurt to think that he wouldn’t be there for them. He wouldn’t be there to take Akihito in his arms and hold him and kiss away his fears. He would have given anything, anything in the world to be the one. But he couldn’t, not anymore. All he had to hold onto was his faith in Dr. Shuu and his belief that here, Akihito might be made well again, that someday he would look in those beautiful blue eyes and see his Princess once again. Hope, it was all Asami had left.

He sat there silently as the children were lined up for lunch and the play room was emptied. Everyone left him alone. Asami made no motion to move, just sitting silently, gazing blindly out the window. His arms were tight around Akihito’s slender frame. He knew it was irrational, he knew it was, but to his heart, it felt like the last time. Which was crazy because Akihito would be perfectly safe. No harm would come to him here. None of Asami’s enemies even knew Akihito existed, much less where he was. He was safe here, safer here than he had been even at the penthouse because here Akihito would receive the care he so desperately needed. Everything was going to be fine.

At least that was what Asami tried to tell the tight, frantic clutching in his chest and his aching, pounding heart.

Finally Akihito began to sigh and stir. He looked blearily up at Asami. Asami smiled at him, smoothing his hair back. He licked his handkerchief and wiped at the streak marks on his pretty cheeks. The boy’s nose and eyes were still red rimmed but he looked like he was feeling better.

The boy looked at him in confusion and then looked down at his hands.

Asami spoke gently, “Are you feeling better Aki-chan?”

Akihito nodded mutely.

“Would you like to go get something eat?”

He shook his head.

“No? What would you like?”

The boy sat there silently playing with the hem of his pale yellow uniform top. Asami smiled sadly. His Princess would have hated the plain, boring tops and pants, sewn without pockets to put things in, baggy and shapeless with elastic waists. But they were comfy and the messes his Little One was bound to get into would be easy to clean. Still though, his Princess would have hated even the thought of wearing a uniform. They sat in silence for a while longer before Asami tried again, bobbing his head to try and catch Akihito's eye.

“Why won’t you talk to me Akihito?”

Aki’s fat lower lip pooched out in a pout and he turned his pretty face away, “No supposa talk a st-rangers.”

Asami’s heart fell a little in his chest at the reminder that to Akihito, he was now a stranger, but his soft smile never wavered, “Oh. Well thats very true. You should not talk to strangers. But I’m not a stranger, I’m a friend of your mothers.”

The boy’s voice went high with hope and his blue eyes lit up, “Mommy?”

Asami shook his head sadly, “Your Mommy can’t be with you right now. But she sent me to let you know that she loves you very much and she would be here if she could.”

He looked up at Asami with big blue eyes filled with hurt and confusion, his voice was like a small child’s when he spoke, “Why?”

“She wanted to make sure you would be safe and cared for, so she had me bring you here. This is a very special place, for very special children. You are going to have so much fun here Akihito, playing with the other children. There will be games and playtime and painting and music. And the doctors here are going to help you get better.”

Akihito slumped his shoulders, “M’not sick.”

Asami didn’t answer that, just held him tight and let Akihito put his head down on his shoulde. He whined plaintively, “Want my Mommy.”

Asami’s heart clenched again in his chest as he murmured into Akihito’s soft honey curls, “I know baby, I know.”

Akihito’s little tummy gurgled and the boy giggled wetly. Asami poked him through the thin cotton, “Do I hear a rumbly in your tummy?”

The blond nodded and Asami smiled with relief. Finally, something he could fix. “Well how about we go get some lunch? Lets go have a picnic, just you and me.”

“Pic-nic?” Akihito cocked his head to the side in question of the strange word.

“Yes, a picnic, where we eat outside on a blanket. We’ll have chicken and french fries and cupcakes.”

Aki’s eyes went round and he held out his hand eagerly. Asami took it and began leading him outside. Akihito held his bear in the other arm. They made their way out of the rambling building with Akihito’s wide eyes taking in every sight and sound and finally they made their way out onto the grounds. Asami had arranged for a picnic lunch to be provided, set out on a blanket in a quiet shady area of the gardens. Akihito gasped when he saw the balloons. There weren’t any presents because Asami couldn’t give him anything. Everything was communal at the mental institution, but the boy still deserved to have his birthday celebrated, even if he couldn’t remember it. He was nineteen today.

Akihito grabbed one of the red balloons and held it in his lap squeezing it and making rubbery squelching sounds. He bounced it on the ground with his hands like a ball. It didn’t have any helium because the asylum didn’t keep any on hand and Asami’s men had had to make do with what they had, but that didn’t seem to bother Akihito. Asami laughed at his enthusiasm and made him a plate with two chicken drumsticks and french fries. He swirled the ketchup and the mustard together to make an orangey dipping sauce just the way he knew Akihito liked it. The boy ate happily, greedily partaking of the junk food. The meals at the asylum would be on the whole much healthier but Asami didn’t see any reason not to indulge Akihito with one last meal. The tall man took off his suitcoat and reclined on the blanket. Akihito seemed to have lost interest in eating and was now actively trying to feed his bear some of the chicken. It was the same outside as his old bear, but the inside had been completely redone with new electronics. The bear still had a GPS inside it, state of the art with a battery that was good for ten years, completely water and fire proof. It was a bit overboard and highly unnecessary, but it made Asami feel better because he knew Akihito would carry it with him everywhere just as he had as a child and Asami would know where he was at all times, even if it was only inside the walls of the mental institution. It was more for Asami’s sanity than anything.

Asami ended up taking the chicken away from the boy and mopping his mouth… and the bear’s mouth… with his handkerchief, “All done?”

Akihito nodded, sucking on his greasy fingers and Asami pulled out a pink box and opened it. It had one big cupcake with thick buttercream icing on top. Akihito’s eyes went big, “For me?”

Asami laughed at the question the boy had asked so many times before, “Yes, my darling boy, all for you.” He plopped a candle on top of it and lit it with his lighter. Akihito looked at him questioningly and Asami realized the boy probably had no idea what the candle was for.

“You make a wish and if you blow out the candle on the first try, your wish will come true.”

Akihito gasped, “Really?”

Asami nodded, “Yep. So make a wish”

He opened his mouth to say his wish out loud and Asami pressed his finger to the boy’s pink lips, “Don’t tell me what it is, it has to be a secret.”

Aki nodded solemnly and then squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. Asami made his own wish as he watched him and then Akihito opened his eyes, took a big breath and blew out the candle with one breath. He clapped in excitement, “My wish, my wish!”

Asami took the candle off the top of the cupcake and picked out some of the wax before handing it to Akihito. The boy took a big bite, smearing frosting all over his lips and nose and then offered it back to Asami. The older man smiled and shook his head. The only sweets he was interested in consuming were those sweet pink lips. He watched as Akihito smeared the cream all over his mouth, eating happily and innocently. So innocent.

When he was finally finished, Asami mopped his mouth with yet another clean handkerchief. He had gotten in the habit of carrying multiples for his Little One. He stood and held out his hand for Akihito to take hold of. The boy wanted to take the red balloon and the bear, so Asami had to hold his bear for him so Akihito could take the balloon. He decided to take the boy on a walk down by the water. The wrought iron fence separated them from the river but they could still see the rushing water. It was a beautiful Spring day, still early in May, with a light breeze. The pair walked slowly through the perfectly manicured grass. The grounds of the asylum really were beautiful, more like a hotel garden than a hospital. They could hear the sounds of ‘children’ playing in the distance, laughing and calling to one another. Soon that would be Akihito. Soon his boy would be laughing and playing and surrounded by friends. Asami had to believe that, he had to or he would never be able to leave him here. It pained him to think of Akihito homesick and sad and lonely and so he had to imagine him happy and having fun. Anything else was just too much to bear. The boy had suffered _enough_.

They walked in silence, Asami was lost in thought and Akihito’s mind was still in that childhood place before speech comes easily, where words are clumsy things that are hard to remember and use. He didn’t say much, only occasionally pointing out things that he knew, ‘Bird’ and ‘Tree’ and ‘Flower’ and Asami would nod and praise him for being so smart. Finally they got to the other corner of the rounds and Asami could see the turn in the fence. They would have kept going but he could see a girl in a wheelchair. Her hair was blond, the same golden honey blond as Akihito’s and she was dressed in lavender. There were roses in her lap and Kuroda knelt at her side. He held her hand in his and was speaking to her quietly. She stared blankly ahead, as if wholly unaware the man was even there. Her face was almost a perfect replica of Akihito’s and Asami realized that it was Momohara Ai. He turned around, not wishing to intrude and began trying to guide Akihito back the way they came but the boy would not be guided.

He stopped and dug in his heels and pointed at her, “My wish! My wish!”

Akihito twisted his hand from Asami’s grip and began to run towards Momohara, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”

Asami realized with horror that of course Akihito had blown out the candles and wished for his mother and that Asami had told him whatever he wished for would come true. He also realized that Akihito looked just like his mother and Momohara looked just like Akihito, which meant she was the spitting image of Takaba Marie before her injury, which meant she looked _exactly_ like the mother Akihito remembered.

The blood froze in his veins as Akihito went barreling towards the poor girl. This was a disaster. He was going to terrify the girl, possibly traumatize her even further. And yet, Akihito obviously thought she was his mother. How would he ever separate Akihito from her? And how would he feel when his beloved mother wouldn’t speak to him, not so much as a word? How would he feel when she wouldn’t even acknowledge him? Akihito was going to be devastated. Asami ran after him but Akihito was far faster than he and there was nothing he could do to stop him. It was like watching a train wreck happen.

Akihito tumbled toward Momohara but she seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings. She did not even turn her head. Kuroda moved to intercept Akihito but the boy twisted around him like a dancer. He dropped onto his knees, throwing his arms around the girl’s thin body and burying his face in her lap as his hands clutched at her clothes. “Mommy! Mommy!” He mewled joyfully over and over again.

Asami moved to pull Akihito off the poor traumatized girl but then Kuroda stopped him.

Momohara was actually looking down at him. To both men’s surprise and shock, she slowly lifted her hand and placed it on top of Akihito’s blond head. He gazed up at her in open adoration, “Mommy!”

The girl’s previously blank face was filled with radiant joy as she looked down at the boy, touching his face and his cheek reverently as tears began to stream down her cheeks. Her voice was soft and hoarse with disuse as she murmured, to the boy in her lap, “My baby.”

-

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